Impact
by fallingstars68
Summary: When they returned to Hogwarts for their Eighth year, they thought that their trials had finally ended. The Ministry, however, has other plans. Parenthood is a new battle that none of them could have prepared themselves for, especially knowing that they were being paired with the ones they hated the most. Eighth year parenting class fic - with a twist!
1. Chapter 1

**ONE**

It was eerily silent in the Eighth Years' common room, despite the fact that it was occupied by nearly a dozen students. Waning afternoon light streamed into the room from its tall windows, bathing them in its golden glow. Hermione was perched on an armchair while Ron sat on the floor below her, his head resting between her legs. She marveled at the beauty of the sun's glow on his hair, giving it a burnished glow. He let out an appreciative hum as she combed her fingers through his locks, and leaned further into her touch. Harry was sitting on the floor next to Ron, looking entirely carefree as he absently twirled his wand between his fingers.

Despite the relative ease of her two companions, the others in the room were shifting anxiously in their seats as they awaited McGonagall's arrival. They'd all been on edge since they'd been informed that there would be a critical meeting for the eighth years that afternoon, and that attendance was mandatory. The Headmistress had said it with a somber look on her face, which had succeeded in deeply perturbing all of the eighth years.

At the moment the clock struck four, the double door leading to the common room swung open to admit the headmistress.

"Good afternoon," the Headmistress said, moving to stand before the crackling fire. "I am sure you are all anxious to know why I've called you all here." She looked around the room, taking in the mix of students wearing their various house colors.

Surprisingly, there hadn't been much protesting when they'd arrived in the castle only to be informed that the eighth years were being sequestered away in their own separate dormitory starting the following day. For Hermione, it felt somewhat akin to relief to not be forced to interact with the younger students much when their innocence contrasted so heavily against what the older students had endured just a year prior. For now, they had been granted access to the large, circular common room that was surrounded by sprawling windows and ornate tapestries representing each of the four houses. They were currently seated on the various pieces of plush furniture surrounding the large fireplace. There was grand staircase behind them that lead to the second floor, but it had been warded to keep them out until they were due to move in the following morning.

"You may be wondering why you've been given your own dormitory, separate from the other students and intermingled with other houses. This was not a decision made on my part for your comfort, as I'm certain some of you suspect." Several of the students in the room exchanged curious glances at this, Harry and Ron included.

"It was a move directed by the Ministry," she said. Hermione's heart dropped at the tone of the Headmistress' voice. It did not at all sound promising. "As you are all aware, the War has had many lasting effects upon us all."

The students shifted awkwardly, Hermione included. She swallowed the lump that had risen in her throat, forcing herself to focus on the Headmistress' words and not on the thumping of her heart.

"We have entered into a new state of society, which is in an entirely more uncertain state than we were in prior to the war. To combat these...changes, the Ministry has implemented a series of new programs and incentives. This brings us to why we are gathered here today," the woman sighed, looking around at them sadly. Hermione could see the deep lines that had sprouted on the older woman's face beyond aging, and Hermione's heart went out to her. She likely hadn't had much rest since the War, as she'd spent every waking moment of the past year taking part in rebuilding efforts for the school, preparing urgently for the next round of pupils. Even as they sat quietly in the common room, there were still occasional vibrations as neglected parts of the castle continued to knit themselves back together.

"You must understand," she continued, "That this was not an easy choice to make. However, slow pacing towards getting our society back on track has proven that these measures are necessary." Some of the students were leaning forward, listening to her with rapt interest, while others had shrunk back, dreading what she would be revealing.

"There has been a new class designed to replace your Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons. The Ministry has deemed them...unnecessary for students at your level of expertise." The room was silent as the students took in her words.

"This new class, Post-War Reintegration, will be introduced on Monday morning. It is a class that has been designed to acclimatize you all to the shifting needs of our society. Some of you may be hesitant to participate in some of the assignments the course requires, but I am here to remind you all that this course is a mandatory requirement for graduation, and the Ministry will not allow any of you to sit for your N.E.W.T.S unless it has been completed. Although you are the first students to participate in the course, please do keep in mind that all of its required activities are temporary, and you are expected to set a graceful example for the students that will be participating in next year's course.

"You will spend the night with your respective Houses, but by morning your things will be moved into your new rooms. You have each been assigned a partner that you will be sharing your quarters with, and this person will also be your partner for each class, most especially including Post-War Reintegration." There was some derisive murmuring at this.

Dean raised a hand into the air, and McGonagall nodded at him to speak. "But...why?" he asked, his expression mirroring that of many of the students in the room.

McGonagall sighed. "You will be told the details of the class tomorrow, Mr. Thomas."

The room erupted into a chorus of protests.

"Honestly, Headmistress," Seamus exclaimed. "You can't just let them spring this on us without so much as a warning!"

Padma Patil nodded enthusiastically. "We deserve to know," she agreed.

"I think we've earned the right," Ron piped in.

"What's the harm in saying something?" Pansy Parkinson added.

The Headmistress pursed her lips thoughtfully for a moment. "I…"

"Headmistress, please," Seamus said. "Just a hint?"

"This will not go over well with you all," she said somberly. "Perhaps it is better for you to enjoy your weekend, and have a few more carefree days."

"That's pure b-" Dean cut himself off at as McGonagall shot him a stern look.

"That's all the more reason for us to know now!" Parvati urged. "We could use the time to prepare."

Ron nodded. "All we're gonna do now is stress and speculate until we're told, anyhow," he said. Many heads nodded in agreement.

"We deserve to know, Headmistress," Harry spoke up softly, but the room quieted at his words. "Please tell us."

McGonagall let out a long sigh once again, then spoke. "Very well," she said. "As you are all aware, the Second Wizarding War decimated our population. Although more than a year has passed since we were able to officially declare peace, the aftereffects of the war have proven to be as devastating as the war itself. Our population is dwindling rapidly, and we are facing serious consequences in the future. The Ministry has decided to implement a program to incentivize repopulation efforts."

Hermione's jaw dropped open. Repopulation efforts?

"They're going to breed us?!" someone screeched. Hermione couldn't identify the voice over the pounding of her heart that was slowly drowning out the panicked voices in the room.

"Heavens no!" the Headmistress exclaimed. "No, Miss Abbott, not at all," she added calmly.

"Then how are we to help with repopulation?" Ron asked, saying the last word as if it were a curse.

"They simply wish to incentivize you through simulation, in hopes that you will be more inclined to start families in the future," McGonagall explained.

Although the woman said her explanation in a tone that was clearly meant to calm them, it had the opposite effect. The students erupted in protests, shouting over one another as they panicked.

"They are going to breed us!" Parvati cried, burying her face in Padma's shoulder.

"They must be barking mad!" Ron shouted. "They can't make us-"

"Silence!" McGonagall shouted over the chaos. "There will be no breeding of any sort. They intend to have you simulate pregnancy and child rearing, but nothing will be permanent."

This time, the silence was deafening. Everyone in the room was speechless, staring wide-eyed at their Headmistress as if she'd just begun leaking bubotuber pus out of her ears.

"You can't be serious," Hermione finally found her voice. "Headmistress, this is- insanity, it's-"

"Required by law, Miss Granger," she said. "The children will be magically implanted within you, and nothing untoward will occur."

"But-"

"But nothing, Mr. Weasley. Unfortunately, my protests against this decision have fallen on deaf ears. Instead, take this time to look at it from a positive perspective - this will be a most excellent opportunity to promote inter-house unity. I will give you the weekend to adjust, and you can move into your new quarters after Monday's class." Before any more protests could erupt, she turned and exited the room.

* * *

By the following morning, everyone's nerves were nothing short of frazzled. They had all filed into the classroom as though each step was echoed with the sound of a death knell, and they were all now seated quietly at their desks, near silent in the foreboding air that stifled the room.

Ron sat next to Hermione, gripping her hand tightly as he watched the door nervously, waiting for their Ministry-appointed instructor to enter.

"Maybe we'll get each other," he said hopefully, lifting her hand to give it a quick kiss.

"Maybe," she answered quietly, unwilling to get her hopes up.

Harry was sitting at the table next to them, his entire body stiff with tension. Beside him, Lavender looked positively distraught, and she was twisting one of her ringlets around and around her finger anxiously.

The rest of their classmates were in a similar state, and nearly no one moved until the door flew open and a tall, waif-like woman with flowing dark curls drifted through it. Her long, glittering grey robes trailed behind her, giving her an ethereal look that matched her delicate features.

"Welcome," she smiled a beatific smile, her grey-blue eyes contrasting sharply against her caramel-colored skin.

No one responded, and they all simply blinked at the woman in front of them, unmoving.

"My name is Professor Jameson, and I will be guiding you all along on the lovely journey of parenthood throughout this school year." At her words, many in the room paled, while others' faces twisted into expressions of complete anger.

She paid them no mind, and instead waved her wand at a cupboard next to her desk, sending textbooks flying to their desks. All The Segments of Being Pregnant, Hermione's read. It pictured a laughing witch who rubbed her hand over her stomach that bulged through her robes, winking occasionally at Hermione. She peeked at Ron's, which was titled Flying into Fatherhood, that featured a wizard whizzing around on his broom with a child on a small training broom trailing behind him. It felt ridiculous and perverse, and her stomach flipped in disgust at the idea of it all.

"Now, let's get you all settled into your pairs, shall we?" Professor Jameson smiled beatifically before she materialized a list and began reading from it.

"Dean Thomas and Hannah Abbott…"

Hermione closed her eyes and breathed deeply, resigning herself to her new fate.

"Harry Potter…" The professor paused to clear her throat. Hermione looked over to Harry, who had begun looking around the room, casually examining his potential partners. "...and Pansy Parkinson."

Hermione sucked in a breath as Harry froze. Hermione recalled the moment not-so-long ago where Pansy had demanded Harry be handed over to the Voldemort, cringing. Pansy's hand shot in the air as she turned to look at Harry, scrunching her face up in disgust.

"Yes, Miss Parkinson?" The professor paused her reading.

"I'd like to request a change of partners."

"There will be no changes," Professor Jameson said, smiling all the while. "Remember, this is also a wonderful opportunity to promote inter-house unity."

"And I would like to 'unite' with another house, please." Pansy insisted. Harry fumed quietly beside Hermione.

"No exceptions," Professor Lovegood said, and continued to read off the list, leaving an outraged Pansy and irritated looking Harry to their own devices.

"Padma Patil and Ronald Weasley…"

"Maybe it won't be so bad," Hermione whispered over to Harry. He shot her incredulous look in return.

"Neville Longbottom and Millicent Bulstrode." Neville looked positively petrified as he looked across the room at the bulkier girl. She stared back at him blankly, which seemed to scare him all the more.

Hermione stifled a giggle at the odd pairing. Maybe this will be entertaining after all, she wondered.

"Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy."

Or maybe not, she thought, burying her face in her hands in defeat.

* * *

Hermione returned from a late study session to find her fellow eighth years gathered around the fireplace, some seated on the plush couches whilst others stood. It was deep into the evening, and the sky outside the sprawling windows was littered with an array of stars. The Forbidden Forest loomed in the distance, the soft moonlight only hinting at its shadows. The peace of the school's grounds contrasted sharply against the tension permeated the room full of students, half of whom had been magically implanted with a classmates child only hours prior.

"This is just too much," Hannah Abbott was pacing in front of the fireplace. Her dressing gown floated out behind her as she moved. "Too much, too much," she continued to mutter as others spoke.

"Why would the Ministry insist on such a horrid idea?" Pansy Parkinson was sprawled inelegantly across one of the couches, an emerald green sleep mask covering her eyes. Her skin looked unusually pale, and her voice was noticeably weaker than usual.

Harry and Ron sat on the sofa nearest Hermione, and Harry's face was frozen in a look of disbelief. Hermione slid into the small space between them, poking Harry in the shoulder. "What's wrong?" she asked.

Harry did not respond, and she turned to Ron. "Ron, what is going on?" she asked. He looked defeated, and raised a finger to point up and across the room. She looked up beyond the grand staircase, remembering that the second floor was now open for them to find their new living quarters. There was a long hallway at the top of the stairs, lined with large portraits. She turned away from the chaos momentarily, making her way up the plushly carpeted stairs and halting abruptly in front of the first of the portraits and staring, horrified, at the glittering golden words etched exquisitely in into the wall above it.

Harry Potter and Pansy Parkinson, it read.

No, she thought as the realization dawned on her. The portrait next to Harry and Pansy's was also embossed in large gold letters atop it - Blaise Zabini and Lavender Brown, it read. Hermione's eyes scanned the rest of the row, and, surely enough, the final portrait on the far right read Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger.

She was frozen in the hall, and barely registered the portrait hole she had stopped in front of opening before Daphne Greengrass nearly smacked into her as she exited.

"Sorry," Daphne muttered before clamping her hand over her mouth, looking as if she was about to retch. She disappeared back through the portrait hole as quickly as she had come out before Hermione could say anything.

Hermione stood there, completely bewildered for a few moments before making her way towards her own portrait hole, staring at the image of a centaur in a field of blooming flowers, looking menacing even as it delicately combed its shining locks.

"Password?" It asked gruffly, flicking its eyes over her form.

"Bezoar," she said quietly, stepping begrudgingly through the threshold when it swung open.

She stepped into a small hall. Unlike the cold dread the situation filled her with, the atmosphere in the small flat was surprisingly warm. The floors were a dark wood and the walls were painted in a warm brown and had several sconces lined up along it that the elves had undoubtedly light for them, making the room glow. She moved to the end of the hall, pointedly ignoring the two doors along the wall she passed that likely lead to the bedrooms. where there was a small sitting room with a miniature fire burning in the hearth. Although much smaller than the main common room, she found the area immediately comforting.

She lingered in the sitting room for a while longer before turning back to the hallway and quickly finding the door that said Hermione. She opened it to find a decently sized room with a four poster in the middle. It was simply furnished with a wardrobe and a small desk. Her trunk lay at the foot of her bed. There were also two doors on the opposite wall of the room. The first door opened into a large bathroom. The door to Malfoy's room on the opposite side of the bathroom was firmly closed.

She left the bathroom and opened the next door to discover a small nursery that, to her surprise, held an extremely agitated looking Draco Malfoy. He was wearing a green jumper with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows and trousers, and was barefoot. He had been glaring hard at the crib when she first opened the door, but now his glare was directed at her.

"Morning," she said quietly, taking in the bare white nursery. He ignored her, aiming his disdain at the crib once more.

The nursery was all white with cream walls. A crib was against the wall on one side of the room, and the other side held a changing table and a rocking chair. A small bed was against the wall furthest from her. She supposed it was for one of the parents to sleep in when they felt the need. Hermione felt her vision blurring as panic set in. The Ministry was making her bear a child. Malfoy's child. She realized that she was clutching her stomach in fear, but could not find the strength to pull her hand away. Here they stood together, expected to endure this impossible task together despite the fact that their relationship could be described as frigid at best.

She opened her mouth to say something to him, anything, but instead found herself closing it again.

"Out with it, Granger." Malfoy's voice pierced the silence, making her start.

He was no longer glaring at her, but he wasn't smiling either.

"I-" she started again, but he cut her off.

"Do not delude yourself into thinking that this… assignment will make us companions or anything of the sort."

"I wasn't-"

He crossed his arms and raised his eyebrow once more, making Hermione flush again. Perhaps she had been intending to create some sort of a truce between them, although she could see that her attempts would have been futile.

The silence stretched between them for a moment.

"We do, though," she started again.

"Do what?" He asked dryly.

"...have to come to some sort of a truce?"

"Really, now?" He said with a hint of derision in his tone.

"Yes, really," she crossed her arms as well, glaring at him.

"On what grounds?" He asked.

"On the grounds that we're about to become parents and-"

"Whatever she put inside you does not qualify as my child." He jerked his finger toward her stomach, making her clutch it instinctively.

"Well it does for this assignment and it would be best if we at least tried to get on!"

"Just because we work together does not mean that we have to get on."

"So you prefer us like this all the time?"

"Better than pretending to like you," he insisted.

"You're making it very hard to be civil," Hermione said through gritted teeth.

"I never wanted to be civil."

"There is no need to make things this difficult, Malfoy,"

They had moved closer as they bickered and now stood mere inches apart. Hermione's head was tilted far back as he towered over her.

"You can't make me like you, Granger," he said. "And you don't have to pretend not to hate me either."

"I never said I hated you, Malfoy!" She said angrily.

She turned her head away from his suddenly too piercing look and instead found herself looking at his forearm where traces of the Dark Mark were still visible. It was a series of curving dark lines, faded so much that one could only tell what it really was if they were squinting hard.

"Don't you?" He asked after a moment of silence.

"No," she whispered to his forearm. When she looked up again, he was staring at her with an intensity that she couldn't quite mark as anger.

He looked at her for a few more seconds before brushing past her through the door leading to his room.

"You should," his voice was hard and cold as he slammed his bedroom door behind him. At that, she let out a breath she didn't realize she had been holding.

* * *

When Hermione reentered the common room, the rest of the Eighth years were still protesting heatedly.

"Why?" Pansy moaned from where she was still sprawled across the sofa. She had turned from grey to green in the time that Hermione had been upstairs.

"They're trying to punish us," Seamus announced. "As if we haven't been through quite enough already!"

Harry had his face buried in his hands, his glasses askew. She approached him quietly. "Harry?"

He peered up at her through his fingers.

"Are you… alright?" She asked hesitantly.

He buried his face in his hands again and groaned. She sat beside him, rubbing his back affectionately. "It'll be alright, Harry," she said unconvincingly.

"Don't lie to me, Hermione," his voice was muffled.

"I…" she closed her mouth uncertainty. She opted to continue rubbing his back instead, wondering if things would ever really be ok.

"Maybe schooling isn't as necessary as Gran says it is," Neville started. "If I quit now, then maybe-"

"Don't be ridiculous, Neville," Hermione cut in. She looked around the room at the rest of the miserable-looking eighth years. "Look, maybe it really isn't so bad."

"Stop saying that, Hermione," Parvati snapped, glaring at her.

Hannah Abbott nodded enthusiastically in agreement.

"What could possibly be good about becoming forcibly pregnant by someone whom you dislike?" Padma Patil added.

"Inter-house unity?" Hermione offered, knowing she didn't even believe it herself.

Pansy and Padma scoffed in unison.

"Riiight," Daphne Greengrass' voice sounded from behind her. She looked as sick as Pansy did.

"You barely believe it yourself, Granger," Blaise pointed out.

Malfoy chose that moment to appear at the top of the stairs. He sauntered down, hands shoved lazily in the pockets of his trousers. She noticed that his sleeves were now pulled down to his wrists, hiding the faded Mark. She looked around at the other Slytherin boys, wondering if they were hiding their scars too.

"So what are we going to do?" Hannah asked. The attention of those in the room had shifted to the Head Boy and Girl, looking at them as if they expected some outright show of rebellion.

Instead, Malfoy shrugged noncommittally.

"Draco," Pansy said accusingly. "Aren't you going to do something?"

"No," he said simply. Hermione especially surprised, remembering his outburst at McGonagall just the previous day. Now, he appeared completely disinterested and collected, giving off no hint of his fury.

"You have nothing to say at all?" Parvati's mouth hung slightly open, as did the mouths of several others in the room.

"Draco," Pansy started. "You can't possibly be oka-" Malfoy cut her off with a glare.

"Might as well just drop it for now," Dean said, still glowering in the corner. "We'd have to deal with the Ministry anyway, and we all know how impossibly strict they've been in recent months."

Daphne moaned loudly, closing her eyes and lolling her head against the sofa. "We now have other things to attend to, unfortunately."

Theo Nott spoke up. "I 'spose he's right. There's nothing we really can do."

Blaise stood, and shrugged as well. "They're right," he threw over his shoulder as he made his way up the stairs. Malfoy followed him, and the two whispered in hushed tones as they made their way back upstairs.

It hit Hermione then that for now, it really wasn't their problem. The females would be the only ones enduring these pregnancies, leaving the men free for the semester.

She felt anger flash through her hot and quick before she let her rationality take over. She had to show some sort of optimism, even when she felt none.

"It's only temporary," she halfheartedly reminded the rest of the glowering women, whose scowls only deepened at her words.

* * *

When she woke the following morning, Hermione understood all too well the ashen looks she had seen on the faces of some of her fellow eighth years the previous day. The wave of nausea that had jerked her awake was so sudden that she was soon heaving noisily into the toilet. Even after she felt that the contents of her stomach had long since been emptied, nausea continued to overwhelm her, forcing her to remain planted over the toilet bowl. Eventually, she simply lay there moaning quietly.

She was in the same position when Malfoy threw open his door. She could sense his anger by the way the door flew hard into the wall, although she could not be bothered to lift her head and scowl at him.

"What?" she croaked, her voice lacking the sharpness she had intended.

"I do not care to be awoken at dawn by the sounds of you being sick all-"

She had mustered the strength to lift her head and glare at him, which stopped him short.

"You... you look like hell, Granger."

She slowly stood up and made her way to the sink, where she discovered that she did indeed look quite frightening. Her curls were plastered all over her sweaty face. Her eyes were bleary, with large, dark bags underneath them. She splashed cold water onto her face and rinsed her mouth generously before turning back to glare at him once more.

He was now leaning in the doorframe, arms crossed over his bare chest. His mouth was half turned down in a way that somehow propelled her rage even further.

"What?" The word now held as much venom as she had originally intended.

"Happy it isn't me, is all," he said, he smirked slightly before re-entering his room. Her slipper thudded hard against his door as he closed it swiftly behind him.

Her head reeled after the simple motion, forcing her to brace herself against the sink until her head she found herself rushing to crouch over the toilet bowl once more.

* * *

Even changing proved itself a difficult task that morning. Each simple movement made her sensitive stomach lurch, forcing her to dress in slow intervals. By the time she slung her bookbag over her shoulder and made her way to the door, she felt fully prepared to return to the comfort of her four poster bed.

Nevertheless, her mood brightened somewhat when she saw Ron waiting outside her room for her, smiling sheepishly as he held out a small steaming mug to her.

"From Winky," he said, smiling wider as she squeezed his other hand affectionately before lacing her fingers through his. "Said you would need it straightaway."

She had already taken a mouthful of the steaming liquid, grateful that it didn't scald her. She immediately felt it calming her churning insides.

The door adjacent to Hermione's flew open and Pansy blew past them in a huff, her face twisted into a scowl. Harry followed soon after, his expression identical to his partner's.

"Morning," he muttered.

"It'll get better, Harry," Hermione said, basking in the feel of her quickly waning nausea. She patted him on the shoulder in a way that she hoped communicated reassurance.

"Stop lying to yourself, Hermione," he said, his voice hard. "You're pregnant!"

Hermione cringed at the reminder, looking down at her stomach, then back up at Harry. As much as she had tried to avoid thinking too deeply about the implications of this class, she felt the panic hovering on the edges of her mind, threatening to consume her if she did not fill her mind with other things, and quickly.

"The situation isn't permanent, Harry," she said, squeezing his shoulder, despite his unresponsive stiffness. Ron materialized beside Harry, poking his head out of Harry's door to stare derisively at Pansy's quickly disappearing back.

Ron shrugged. "It'll be over soon enough, mate," he clapped Harry on the shoulder.

Harry grumbled indistinctly before stomping off, presumably to meet Ginny.

Ron shrugged again. "He'll come around."


	2. Chapter 2

**TWO**

As the matter would have it, Harry did not come around. He spent the rest of the week brooding, which continued well into the following week and the week _after_ that until Ron and Hermione had finally had enough.

It was thus that she and Ron caught him exiting his rooms one morning, Hermione pinning him to the wall while Ron fished Harry's wand out of his pocket.

"When was the last time you even spoke to Pansy?" Hermione crossed her arms over her chest. Harry glared at them.

"When was the last time you spoke to Malfoy?" he snapped, struggling against the invisible weight that held him fast to the wall.

"This morning," she replied immediately, choosing to exclude the fact that it had been yet another argument over her morning sickness. She pushed her irritation into the back of her mind lest it show. "You are not alone in this, Harry," she pointed out.

"Yeah, mate," Ron said, cringing. "If she's been any bit as ill as Padma, she's probably just as miserable. And irritable," he added.

"I still don't care," Harry snapped.

"Harry," Hermione scolded. "You're being quite unreasonable now. You're the Chosen One! You've been through worse than a school project."

"Worse that a school project where I have to deal with an angry pregnant Slytherin and then raise a child with said Slytherin?" he snapped. "Who, might I add, elected to have me _killed_ just six months ago?!"

Hermione and Ron cringed and exchanged a glance.

"Um, well, I suppose so, um...yes..." Hermione said at the same time Ron said, "Well, kinda mate..."

Harry threw up his hands in exasperation. "If I agree to try will you leave me alone?"

"Probably not," Hermione said as Ron said "Yup."

This time, the two boys turned to look at her. She flushed. "Well, I mean, plenty of other issues could arise in the meantime…" she trailed off.

"Can you let me down now?" was all Harry said in response.

She nodded and began to lower him before snapping him back up abruptly, causing him to shout as his head banged against the wall loudly. "Wait! You need to make an actual promise, Harry," she scolded. "Sorry," she added as he rubbed his head.

"I promise that I will think about trying," he said, still glowering.

This time, she couldn't say that his yelp of pain as his head snapped back against the stone wall was entirely accidental. "Harry," she said, her voice darkening as she felt her patience wearing thin.

"'Mione, just let him g-" Ron stopped as she turned to fix her glare on him.

"You're supposed to be on my side," she reminded him.

"Right," Ron ran his hands through his unruly hair. "Harry," he pleaded to his best mate, whose expression had yet to change.

Harry ignored him, continuing his glaring match his Hermione for a few moments longer. She flicked her wand, pushing him back harder into the wall.

"Hermione!" he whined.

"Harry," she scolded.

"Fine!" he snapped. "I will try."

At that, she spun on her heel and walked away, leaving him to fall into a heap on the floor.

She heard Ron muttering something about this only being the beginning before she was out of earshot.

* * *

Late that evening, she found herself perched on a couch in the 8th years' common room. Harry and Ron were locked in an intense game of Wizard's chess. One of Harry's pawns had just fled the board with Ron's knight in hot pursuit when Ginny sat down next to her.

"So, how are the new quarters?" she asked Hermione, twirling a strand of her fiery hair around a slender finger.

"Decent, I suppose," Hermione shrugged noncommittally.

"Really?" Ginny arched an eyebrow, clearly referring to her Slytherin roommate.

"Slimy bast-" Ron started before becoming distracted by one of his knights getting impaled by one of Harry's.

Harry grinned in satisfaction, looking over at her. "Merlin knows why they would chose _him_ of all people to be your partner, anyway," he said.

"Exactly!" The heat rose in Ron's face, likely equal parts about his girlfriend's rooming situation and his dwindling game of chess.

"He's… tolerable…" Hermione winced at the falsity in her tone.

"Riight," Ginny smirked. "You're allowed to say how you really feel, you know," She made a show of looking about the room. " _I_ for one don't see any Slytherins hiding out here."

Hermione maintained her polite silence, eyeing the staircase just beyond them that lead to the dormitories.

"Or maybe he really _isn't_ bothering you," Ginny giggled. "He has grown up quite nicely…"

At this, both Harry and Ron's eyes shot up from the game to look at their respective girlfriends, while Hermione smacked Ginny's arm with a little more force than usual.

" _Malfoy_?" Harry said at the same time that Ron's queen promptly beheaded Harry's king.

"Really now," Hermione interjected in an attempt to change the subject. "Where did you get such a violent game from?"

"Fred and George," The Weasleys answered in unison.

"Thought that the game would be a bit more interesting this way," Harry added, watching as the pieces of the king repaired themselves before it walked off the board dejectedly.

"Anyway, you're kidding about Malfoy, right?" said Ron, glancing incredulously between Hermione and Ginny.

Hermione gritted her teeth, remembering McGonagall's request. "He can be quite… not unpleasant?" She tried, blushing at the incredulous looks her companions gave her.

"This _is_ the same Malfoy you slugged in third year, right?" Ron asked.

"Yeah, Hermione," Harry added. "You can't really be getting on with _Malfoy_? You're only saying that because you're partnered together for everything the year."

"We're not so much getting on," Hermione said. "We've just come to an... agreement of sorts." She cringed inwardly as they rolled their eyes at yet another blatant lie.

"And is Malfoy _aware_ of this agreement?" Ginny asked.

"Um," Hermione stuttered. "We're working on it, you see-"

"Right," Ginny said, arching an eyebrow.

"Well, I do have to live with him for the school year so it would be best if we got on!" Hermione defended herself, remembering how her previous conversation with him had gone. "Harry, you testified at his trial in his defense." She reminded him feebly.

"Just because I don't think he deserves to go to prison doesn't mean that we're going to be best mates," Harry countered.

"Wouldn't it be easier for you two to just… ignore each other?"

"Maybe..." She responded hesitantly.

"Because he really is just a slimy git," Ron continued. "I'm surprised any of those lot actually get on with anyone."

"They're not so bad anymore, really," Ginny admitted. "At least I don't have to worry about losing Harry to her," she smirked, leaning over to give Harry a kiss on the cheek.

The momentary silence was broken by the common room doors opening to reveal Daphne Greengrass and Theodore Nott. They breezed past the four Gryffindors, ignoring them as they crossed to the other side of the room. "They pretty much keep to themselves these days, anyway," she added, watching the two Slytherins sink into a couch on the opposite side of the room, talking in low voices.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Whatever, Gin. I'd still say stay away from anyone wearing even a hint of green."

"Maybe we need to sympathize with them a bit, they have gone through quite a bit as well…" Hermione trailed off at the incredulous looks on their faces. "I mean, I know we've all been… just nevermind," she muttered.

"Anyway, if there were anyone I'd want my girlfriend to be living with, it's him," said Ron. "At least I can be sure that _he_ won't be hitting on her."

Ginny rolled her eyes at her brother's words, while Harry, after having dealt with Ron and Hermione's arguments for years, wisely kept quiet.

Hermione shot her oblivious boyfriend a deadly glare. "Thanks, Ron," Hermione huffed as she stood up. "Glad to know that I'm so repulsive that not even a Slytherin would touch me," she shot over her shoulder as she made her way to the doors. Ginny followed suit, and they made their way through the corridors towards the Great Hall for dinner.

"You must admit it though," Ginny spoke as soon as they were out of earshot of the boys, "He _has_ grown up to be quite handsome."

Hermione scoffed. "Riiight," she replied sarcastically.

Ginny smacked her arm in return. "I'd like to hear you say that once you've seen him with nothing but pants on."

Hermione rolled her eyes, smacking Ginny back. "You do realize that you're talking about _Malfoy_ , right? Besides, I highly doubt I will ever see him without so much as his robes on."

"I have 6 brothers, Hermione," she said matter-of-factly. "And you have spent enough time in the Weasley home to know that men happen to quite enjoy spending time in their pants."

They heard Harry and Ron call out to them from behind them, and Ginny paused to wait for them.

Fully prepared to ignore Ron, Hermione quickened her pace. Before she could make it very far, however, she felt a hand grab her arm gently, halting her movement. She soon found herself pinned against the wall in a small alcove, her boyfriend's blue eyes shining down at her apologetically, before he leaned down to pepper kisses along her jaw.

"I'm sorry about what I said earlier. You know I didn't mean it that way. Any bloke would be lucky to have a girl like you," he pleaded quietly. She almost felt like rolling her eyes at his meager attempt at an apology, but after fighting with Malfoy earlier she couldn't bring herself to stay mad at him.

She gave him a weak smile. "I know you didn't mean it that way. I'm sorry for overreacting. It's just with the morning I had..."

"If I had to live with the ferret, I'd probably be a little barmy too," Ron said, shrugging. "I'm almost a little jealous of him," he added slyly, slipping his fingers between hers. "After all, he does get to share his rooms with the prettiest girl in school," he planted a kiss on her forehead.

Rolling her eyes at his corniness, she gave him a quick peck on the lips before tugging him away to join Harry and Ginny.

* * *

Ginny was already eating by the time Hermione arrived in the Great Hall for breakfast the next morning, her hair frazzled and bag heavy with books that she had neglected to read since oversleeping that morning.

"Morning!" Ginny said cheerfully.

"What's wrong with Ginny?" Ron asked as came up behind her, already filling his plate.

"Nothings wrong with me, Ron," she said. "I'm just happy is all."

"Happy about what?" Harry asked, wrapping his arm around her shoulder.

Hermione couldn't help smiling through her exhaustion as she watched Ginny launch into an animated story about Quidditch. These moments of unburdened happiness that she had dreamed of for so long - that had seemed so very far away not a year prior - were now abundant in their lives.

"What're _you_ smiling about?" Ron had stopped eating momentarily, turning to look at her.

She looked up into his familiar blue eyes, smiling wider as she took his hand and squeezed it. It felt like home. "Nothing, Ron," she said, kissing his cheek. "Nothing at all."

At that moment, Neville sat down heavily across from them, looking quite cross. Even Harry and Ginny broke their trance to look up at him, sensing the anger radiating off of him.

"What?!" he glared at the two of them as they continued to stare.

"Neville…?" Ginny said, flinching as he snapped at her.

Those sitting in their vicinity had all tuned in to the conversation, equally taken aback by the normally tranquil Neville's sudden anger.

"Millicent is a menace," he said stiffly, piling eggs on his plate and stabbing at them harshly. A harsh red mark that looked suspiciously like a handprint was blooming on his cheek.

"He's finally snapped," Seamus muttered beside Hermione. On her other side, Ron shook his head enthusiastically in agreement.

"I mean, it'll be over soon enough, mate," Dean said.

Neville stopped stabbing his eggs for a moment to glare at Dean. "All of you lot" - he looked pointedly around the table - "need to stop lying to yourselves." This time, he stabbed the table with his fork and left with Snape-like flourish.

The table was dead silent, save for the dulling vibrations the fork made.

"Never knew he had it in him," Seamus said eventually, breaking the stunned silence Neville had left in his wake.

"To be fair, she did nearly kill him when he dropped her Potions book in his cauldron," Ron mused.

"Told you," Harry said. "Shouldn't have come back to Hogwarts in the first place."

At that, Ginny smacked him in the arm. " _Harry_."

"'S true," he said, wincing slightly as he rubbed his arm.

"I know it's unfair, but if you really want to be Aurors" - Hermione looked pointedly at Ron as well - "then you have to complete this year."

"Still pure bollocks if you ask me. What else could we possibly have to learn?" Ron grumbled under his breath. Everyone politely ignored it, even though it

Ginny leaned over and kissed Harry on the cheek, smiling mischievously before continuing to plant more kisses down to his neck, carefully snaking a hand into his undone robes and sliding a hand along his chest.

"Um," Harry said, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "Gin-"

"Shh," she murmured, sucking on his neck.

Dean pelted an orange peel at them in disgust. "Must you do this _everywhere_?" Several of their friends muttered in agreement.

"I'm showing him my love," Ginny giggled, continuing her overt display of affection while Harry shifted uncomfortably, attempting to pull away. He did so successfully only a moment later, pulling her off with a loud sucking noise.

"You disgust me," Ron said, pointedly staring at the mark blossoming on Harry's neck where Ginny had been sucking only moments before.

Harry flushed, slapping a hand over the area before jumping up, stammering out something indecipherable around his half-eaten bagel.

"Gin, don't you think you're being a bit much for poor Harry?" Parvati asked, her nose still wrinkled in disapproval.

"I think you might be a bit too...adventurous for him," Seamus added.

"Oh, nonsense," Ginny giggled, winking at him. "He's adventurous where it counts."

"I could have gone my whole life without ever hearing those words," Ron cut in, glaring at his sister.

"Oh piss off," she stuck out her tongue at her brother, who continued to make gagging noises.

Hermione stood, glancing at her watch. "Herbology starts in five minutes," she reminded the eighth years, who all proceeded to roll their eyes.

Ron laughed, slinging his arm around her as they walked out together.

* * *

That afternoon in Potions, she went to her station to find her partner sitting disinterestedly, twirling his wand absently.

"Hello," Hermione as politely as she could.

"Granger," he responded curtly.

Slughorn cleared his throat at the front of the room, looking around at the small group of Eighth years.

"Today you all will be making a Draught of Peace. I am sure you all know the ingredients by now, correct?"

He received a few disinterested nods from around the room.

"Alright then, go on," he said, retreating to his office.

Draco made no move to stand up, instead opting to turn his disinterested stare towards the window. Glaring at him, she stood in a huff, and immediately regretted doing so. The lurch in her stomach forced her to slow her pace as she gathered the ingredients before returning to the table. The nausea had only retreated minimally, and she was so focused on steadying her breathing that it took her a few moments to notice Malfoy deftly preparing the ingredients.

"You can't just-Malfoy!" she scolded, eyes widening as she caught him crushing a root she was certain was meant to be chopped.

He did not pause, instead tossing it into the cauldron where it landed with a loud _plop_.

" _Malfoy,_ " she snapped, grabbing his arm and feeling him tense for a moment before shaking her off.

"Malfoy!"

"Contrary to what you may believe, Granger," his voice held a dark undertone. "I have more experience making this than you."

At that she paused and swallowed, realizing what had been left unsaid. She wondered if wartime memories would ever stop bleeding through every crack as everyone frantically tried to piece their lives back together, even as the pieces continued to break as quickly as they were assembled.

"Sorry," she mumbled, busying herself preparing the other ingredients.

They worked in silence for some time, Hermione training her focus on the task at hand. And not throwing up, of course.

These two tasks were made somewhat difficult, however, by the fact that Draco just couldn't seem to _cooperate_ with her.

Currently, they were warring with each other for space as she attempted to center the cutting board on the table, lest it hang precariously off the edge of the table. Draco, however, was having none of it. For every inch she attempted to slide the cauldron over, he pushed it back three. This continued for several minutes until she shoved the cauldron over with less-than-ladylike grace, causing him to shove it back. The cutting board clattered to the floor, scattering a mess of ingredients on the floor.

Hermione huffed, at him, shoving him in the shoulder when all he managed was a glare. "You are a complete… complete-" she huffed again.

Malfoy's glare deepened. "A complete what, Granger?"

"Git!" she snapped, stamping her foot like an insolent child. "You are a complete git, Malfoy."

"I know," he said. Her urge to smack him overwhelmed her. She was just about to do so, in fact, when something else overwhelmed her. The nausea rose up in her stomach like a wave, horror following closely behind as she realized that she would not be able to contain it.

She watched as Draco's expression changed from confused to horrified as he realized what was about to transpire.

"Granger, don't you da-" his voice was cut off by the sound of her retching as she had leaned over and started vomiting sloppily into the cauldron.

By the time she looked up, at him, his face was still twisted into a horrified expression, eyes fixed on the cauldron that had begun bubbling loudly.

"Malfoy, I think I need to-" she slurred, feeling her body giving out.

A string of loud obscenities was the last thing she heard from Malfoy before the contents of the cauldron exploded.

* * *

The first thing Hermione was aware of was that something was...off. She opened her eyes to look directly into the setting sun that shone brightly from the window across from her. She forced them shut again, and groaned.

The second thing she noticed was the itching burn in her throat. She coughed, causing it to flare up uncomfortably. She coughed again, wincing at the fresh onslaught of fire.

She was in a bed, she realized. A bed that, while moderately comfortable, was definitely _not_ her own.

She shot up in the bed, staring down at the stark white sheets. Squinting around the room, she realized that she was in the infirmary.

She was also decidedly not alone, as an all-too-familiar blond Slytherin glared at her from the bed beside her. Before she could ask him anything, however, the sound of heels clicking loudly on the stone floor announced Madam Pomfrey's approach.

"Do fix your face, Mr. Malfoy," she smiled sympathetically at Hermione. "You'll get wrinkles." At this, Malfoy's glare deepened.

"Good to see you're both awake," she said, somewhat more cheerfully than expected. "You had quite an incident in Potions earlier." She flitted around the two beds as she spoke, casting several diagnostic spells around the two students.

Hermione yelped as Pomfrey nudged her onto her back and swiftly lifted up her shirt to expose her stomach, sliding the cold tip along it in a precise pattern.

"Madame Pomfrey-" Hermione sputtered at her sudden exposure as she blushed, avoiding the eyes of the very _male_ person who occupied the bed next to her. "Isn't this somewhat inappropriate?" she hissed, blushing furiously.

"Nonsense, Ms. Granger," she waved her unoccupied hand dismissively. "It's nothing that he won't be seeing plenty of in the upcoming months."

Hermione gaped. She opened her mouth to form another question when the room was suddenly filled with an echoing noise. It was a quick, even rhythm that seemed to race in time with the blood in her veins. She looked up at the mediwitch in shock as she realized that that was exactly what it was.

A pulse.

"Your baby's heartbeat," Pomfrey said, smiling endearingly at Hermione's stomach.

She heard Malfoy shift in his bed, and turned instinctively to look at him. Their eyes locked. His eyes were as wide as she was sure hers were as they both listened to the strong heartbeat that fluttered inside her. She vaguely registered a wetness on her cheek, and realized a tear had slipped out.

Despite her apprehension and annoyance, there was one truth that she could no longer deny. This _thing_ inside her was real. She could see her thoughts reflected in Malfoy's eyes as well. As much as they wanted to deny it, the sounds they were hearing now were undoubtedly there. Another tear slipped out, and she batted at it, hoping Malfoy didn't notice it in the rapidly darkening room. She would not break down. Not here. Not now.

Madame Pomfrey spoke, and the spell was broken. "The baby is perfectly fine, as you can hear."

Draco's expression melted into something unreadable, and he tore his gaze away from hers.

"Now, the two of you will need to spend the rest of the night here for observation," Pomfrey continued. "That was quite a nasty explosion, although the effects were quite mild."

Hermione groaned as she remembered the incident that had gotten them there in the first place, burying her head under the covers. She could feel Malfoy's glare on her once again, nearly burning through the sheets.

* * *

The sun was shining brightly, bathing the small group of students lying on the grass in the last of the rapidly fading summer heat. Many other students had taken advantage of this as well, and were spread out in various groups around Hogwarts' expansive grounds. Behind them, the giant squid had taken to raising its tentacles and then slapping them lazily back into the water, occasionally splashing the students with droplets of water.

Ron had just leaned down to kiss Hermione tenderly when they were interrupted by a sound of disgust sounding from beside them. They looked up to see Ginny wrinkling her nose at them. "There is quite enough time for that when you are _not_ in my presence," she said, sitting up from her position lying across Harry's lap.

"You two aren't exactly the most chaste couple," Hermione pointed out, making Harry flush from where he sat behind Ginny. Ginny merely shrugged.

Hermione lifted her head up from where it rested on Ron's lap as her book was splattered by the squid's excessive splashing yet again. She huffed, muttering a quick drying spell. Ron chuckled, looking down at her affectionately.

"Refreshing, isn't it?" he teased. She rolled her eyes and smacked him lightly on the arm. He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek deceptively before snatching her book out of her hands and holding it just out of her reach. He used the opportunity of her outstretched hands to tickle her unprotected stomach until she begged her to stop through her uncontrollable giggles. He stopped and gave her a swift kiss on the lips this time, grinning widely.

He looked away from her eyes and down at the hand he had rested softly on her stomach, his brow furrowing.

"What is it?" Hermione asked.

"It's just that is odd is all," he replied, still looking at her stomach.

"What's odd?" Hermione was quite puzzled herself now.

"That you're pregnant with someone else's child," he said matter-of-factly, pressing his fingers into the small, soft, nearly imperceptible swell of her abdomen.

She snatched his hands away from her body as if they burned, and hastily pulled down her shirt. "Not funny, Ronald," she turned away from him toward Ginny, who was also staring at her abdomen strangely. "It's rude to stare, Gin," she added.

"Sorry," Ginny said, continuing to stare nonetheless. "It's just… a bit strange, isn't it?"

"This whole bloody operation is strange, Gin!" she threw up her arms, waving generally around the Hogwarts grounds.

Ginny giggled. "I mean… I can't imagine being pregnant at all. Having a foreign body in _my_ body sounds so… strange. And uncomfortable."

Ron audibly shuddered behind her. "Well, I'm just ready for this to be over, quite frankly. So you can be...well, you - again."

She looked to find him staring at her stomach once again, and she rolled her eyes before turning back to Ginny. "I mean, one day, you'll be pregnant for real, and I'm sure it won't feel that way." She pointedly chose not to express any feelings about what was currently growing inside of her, mainly because she truly had no idea _how_ she felt about it.

Ginny scrunched up her nose in disgust. "Er, no. I'd rather not."

At that, Harry turned back towards them and away from the quidditch practice he'd been idly watching from afar. "Really?" he asked casting a covert glance at Ginny's flat stomach. "Not at all?"

"Not now, not ever." Ginny said flippantly, moving to lay back on Harry's lap and tutting in annoyance as he sat up straight.

"Why not?" he pressed.

"Why would she?" Ron chimed in. Hermione could hear the disgust in his voice. "They're loud, gross, and destructive."

"My point exactly," Ginny grinned at her brother, leaning up to give her a high five.

"What do you mean, Ron? Children take work, sure, but they're also a beautiful blessing-" Hermione stopped abruptly as Ron snorted.

"What do _you_ mean?" he asked, eyebrows raised in what seemed like genuine surprise.

"I mean that of course you'll want children one day! You grew up in such a big, happy family, and you mean to tell me that you've never once thought of raising your own children?"

At this, both Weasleys snorted in unison. "It was _hell_ , Hermione," Ginny said.

"You have no idea what it's like to have to share everything, have no privacy, no peace and quiet, nothing that was every truly yours." Ron added. "All I want is a happy, quiet home-"

"-with a happy, quiet spouse." Ginny finished. "And all the brand new shiny things my money can buy, of course." The Weasleys tittered, while Harry and Hermione remained silent. Hermione caught Harry's eye, in which she saw reflected the same thoughts as hers.

"You can't really mean that, though," Hermione tried again, watching their mirth incredulously. "I mean, surely you'll change your mind once you're older."

"Older?" Ginny gave her a quizzical look. "I'd sterilize myself _now_ if I could."

"Count me in," Ron shuddered, making gagging noises behind Hermione.

Harry looked as though he'd been slapped, but Ginny was too busy looking at Hermione to notice.

"Do you really mean that, Ron? I mean, you change your mind all the time, you can't possibly be certain-" she stopped short at the look in Ron's eyes.

"I'm certain, 'Moine," he said flatly. "And I certainly mean it when I say that I can't wait until this whole...thing-" he gestured flippantly at her stomach. Again. "-is over."

He slid closer to her, wrapping his arms around her chest from behind. "I just want you," he whispered into her neck, kissing it softly. She sat quietly, overwhelmed as she processed this new information. No, she wasn't ready for a child - certainly not now. But… one day, she'd thought one day, that she and her husband would… she and _Ron_ would...

The squid made a sudden, larger splash, wetting their group considerably. While her friends muttered and began drying themselves, she took that as an opportunity to jump out. She just knew that she had to be… elsewhere, for now. She was hit with a sudden wave of dizziness and Ron caught her leg, stabilizing her as she stumbled.

"You alright?" She looked down into the blue eyes that she loved so dearly. "I'm fine," she choked, masking it with a cough. "Justalittlenauseaisall," she rushed out, marching away as quickly as she could.

* * *

She wandered the castle for hours, aimlessly exploring places she has never been - and thus knew they were where she would never be found.

Growing up, she'd always had a dream. A perfect little wedding on the beach, her bare toes curling in the sand as she whispered _I do_. The man she loved whispering it back, staring at her adoringly before sweeping her up and kissing her deeply in one fell swoop. A small cottage, somewhere cozy but not too far from her family. A child. A little girl, running around with little pigtails as frizzy as her own had been at that age, flashing a beatific smile as she called for her mother. Christmases with her extended family, everyone laughing around the table.

Specific faces, locations, and events had started out blurry and unfocused, but became clearer the older she got and the more sure she became of what she wanted in her future. The beach became a gorgeous little one she'd visited with her parents on a trip to Thailand when she was 14. The cottage dream had morphed into a large flat somewhere in Wizarding London, with easy access to her family, friends and whatever job she ended up in. Large enough for a family. Maybe two girls, and a boy…

The husband she'd always wanted, the blurred out dream husband, had slowly began to gain clearer features until he vaguely resembled Ron. He'd shift out of focus at times, but by sixth year she'd been so certain it was him. Ever since they'd gotten together, however, it had begun to fade again, shifting in and out of focus.

She wanted to brush it off as a childhood fantasy gone awry, but she knew deep down that it rang a truth she didn't wish to face in her reality. She and Ron were happy and together, yet she felt so far away from him sometimes that she felt like she was watching him through frosted glass.

She made to lean back against a wall, only to find herself stumbling backwards into an open doorway, catching herself before she fell.

"Get. Out," a voice cut into her thoughts, causing her to jump with a squeal.

Clutching her racing heart, she looked up to see a figure lounging casually in a windowsill across the room. Even without the unmistakable shock on platinum hair atop his head, she'd recognize that relaxed, yet frustratingly entitled poise anywhere.

" _Malfoy?_ What on earth are you doing in here?"

"Get out, Granger," he spat again, eyes firmly trained on something outside the window and beyond her view.

"You are such an asshole, Malfoy," she shot back. "I just so happened to be minding my own business when-"

"I don't give a damn," he cut her off. "Just leave. Now."

"Why?"

He glowered silently from across the room, and she took the time to look around the room. It was an abandoned classroom, with bits of rubble piled in corners. It had clearly been glossed over during renovations, and she knew that the exterior was pristine while in here had been left for later cleanup, only to be forgotten.

Her thoughts were interrupted once again by a quick movement she caught in the corner of her eye, and only barely dodged the stinging hex that Malfoy shot her way.

"Malfoy!" She shouted. "You...you…I'm...I'm pregnant for god's sake!" she sputtered, unable to come up with anything better to say.

He was across the room and in front of her in a flash, so quick that her heart skipped a beat. "Do you really think I give a damn?" he spat. He was so close that she could feel his hot breath fanning across her face.

Her eyes widened as she noticed splotchy spots of redness on his cheek, matching his red-rimmed eyes. "Have you been crying?" she asked softly.

He raised his wand again, levelling it directly at her chest, its tip brushing her through her robes ever so slightly. She clutched her stomach instinctively. "Leave. Now."

She ran through dozens of angry things she could have shouted back at him in response, but halted at the look in his eyes and the wand that he held so close to her. She levelled him with a glare that she hoped matched his before backing away and stomping off down the hall in a huff, continuing to clutch her stomach for several paces before stopping abruptly to drop her hands. _He wouldn't have really…?_ She shook her head. What was she protecting, anyway? An especially cruel ministry-ordained _project_ , that, only a few weeks in, already threatened to topple her sanity. She wanted to laugh at her actions, ridiculous as they were. Sighing, she examined her surroundings before wandering off in what she hoped was the right direction.


	3. Chapter 3

**THREE**

She didn't see Malfoy again until the next day. They were sitting in class, but she couldn't bring herself to pay attention. Instead, she stared at her wrist, turning it over and over again before staring at his, then back at hers again. Only just over a month ago, Professor Jameson had tapped her wand over their wrists, connecting them by a small, silvery string of magic, and just like that, she'd been deemed pregnant with his child before the professor had flitted over to the next table. She was pregnant with the child of the brooding man next to her. A child that would function as a human in almost every capacity, save for the fact that it would age from infancy to toddlerhood at an impossible rate before disappearing abruptly at the end of the school year. At this moment, her world felt as if it were tipped on its axis, having abruptly shifted to begin spinning around the thing that grew inside her.

Malfoy ignored her, seemingly unaware of the small panic attack his partner was having, his gaze trained hard at something out the windows next to them that she could not see. In the background, Professor Jameson prattled on about a series of spells the men were to use twice weekly to check up on their partners' pregnancies and report their findings.

Her eyes strayed from trying to figure what it was he was staring at beyond the window to examining him. Her eyes swept over the elegant curves of his neck to his nose, and back down to his sharp jaw. Up again, this time catching the way the sunlight bathed his blond head in a halo, his tousled hair that he no longer gelled back harshly, but instead let fall around his face in a somehow perfectly tousled mess. Her eyes swept down further still, over his leanly muscled body, pausing at his exposed forearms. Had his muscles always been this perfectly sculpted?. She couldn't recall. The muscles were tense, gripping hard against the table. _As always_ , she thought, wondering about what thoughts were constantly running through his mind to have him so tense at all times.

"Finished?" she started at his voice, and her eyes darted up to his face, which was still faced steadfastly towards the window. Away from her, as always.

She blushed, and then scowled. Why was he always catching her in these moments? Why was she always staring?

"...be sure to press very lightly in this area, as it is exactly where the baby rests," Hermione let Professor Jameson's voice fade back into focus, watching as the women flitted about around a reluctant-looking Millicent Bulstrode, demonstrating the spells to be used on her. She tapped her wand just below Millicent's navel, and the loud fluttering of her child's heartbeat filled the room. Her classmates' faces bore identical expressions to those Hermione and Malfoy had sported when they'd first heard the heartbeat.

Millicent looked horrified, and seemed to be ready to flee from the room if it weren't for Professor Jameson's iron grip holding her in place. Across the room, Hannah Abbott suddenly burst into tears, breaking the trance-like mood her classmates were in.

"It's so… beautiful!" she cried out burying her face in her hands as she sobbed.

Dean had recoiled as far away from his partner as he could, teetering precariously on his stool. He hesitated a moment before reaching tentative hand out, then changed his mind and stuck out just a finger instead and began to stroke her shoulder as carefully as one would a basilisk.

"Anywhoo," Professor Jameson continued, cutting off the heartbeat and plunging the room back into silence, save for Hannah's continued sobs. "When you do this to your actual partners, be completely certain to be precise. I don't expect any mishaps, but accuracy is key. After all, men, your grades for this part of the term depend greatly on how well you do on these exercises. We mustn't forget that passing this class has been placed above even your N.E.W.T.S."

"Sorry, _what_?" Harry said, as Hermione's hand shot in the air, bursting with the same question.

"Well of course Mr. Potter!" she exclaimed happily, as if unaware of the panic that has overwhelmed the students since the beginning of the term. "Why wouldn't it be?"

Hermione seethed in her seat, mentally rifling through the many reasons why the Ministry would put them through this torture. Longevity and flourishment? Rubbish.

Harry threw up his hands and stalked out of the room, his stool clattering to the floor.

"Oh dear, I'm sure he'll come around. You are all dismissed. Don't forget - the results of your first check-ins are due by this evening."

The rest of the class filed out in a decidedly less dramatic fashion than Harry, but not without their fair share of grumbles. Hermione marched ahead of the group, determined to get into a hot bath before Malfoy returned and banged down the door until she left.

She was just about to step through her and Malfoy's portrait hole when a pair of arms snaked their way around her waist, causing her to yelp loudly in alarm.

"It's just me!" Ron laughed in her ear while she attempted to slow her heart rate.

"Jesus, Ronald! I thought you and Harry were going off to play a game of quidditch?"

"The real team _apparently_ had a practice scheduled," Ron said, his voice laced with bitterness. "It's complete bull that we weren't even allowed back on the team after-"

Hermione sighed as he followed her to her room. "Ron, we've been through this. Eighth years aren't allowed on the team because-"

"-it'd be an unfair advantage." Ron cut her off. "Whatever. Blah blah bollocks."

"You're free to play as you'd like now, though. As many games with your friends as you want."

Ron flopped back on her four-poster dramatically. "You don't understand, 'Moine. It's just not the _same_ ," he moaned.

She smiled at her best friend lying on her bed, ever the picture of misery as he moaned about a silly game that she'd rather he didn't risk serious injury playing, anyway. Her smile faltered for a moment as she realized that she'd inadvertently called him her best friend. Her boyfriend. Her boyfriend. The man she loved. _Boyfriendboyfriendboyfriend_ , she repeated, as if the cycle of the words would give it more truth than she'd felt in a while.

As if sensing her thoughts, Ron walked over and kissed her gently between her brows. "You're stressed about something," he mused, tracing a thumb over the skin he'd just kissed, attempting to smooth out the furrow that had appeared there.

"It's nothing," she lied, then winced at his raised eyebrow. He knew her too well.

"Nothing? Or is it-?" he touched her through her robes, his hand smoothing over the small, but still unmistakable bump on her stomach. She doubted he could feel it, but she was always aware of it, constantly hypersensitive of the foreign presence on her body.

She sighed, stepping away from him. "No, it's nothing, I'm fine. Classes have been a little stressful, but I'm fine," she reassured him.

"You finished half your N.E.W.T.s over the summer, Hermione," Ron said. "Try again."

"Alright, maybe it is this-" she waved to her stomach "-a little bit. But that's all, I promise." _It's this. It's me. It's...us. It's_ everything _._ She wanted to say, but knew she couldn't. To her, Ron was like a lazy Sunday morning curled up in the bay window at her parents' home, reading a good book. Comfort - home. She tried not to wince at the memory of times long gone, and instead plastered on her best fake smile. "Really, Ron. I'm fine." He searched her eyes for a moment before smiling satisfactorily at what he saw.

"Okay," he leaned down to kiss her, then frowned for a moment as she turned her head, letting his lips hit her cheek instead.

She moved away gracefully and made as if she was heading to set down her things, settling down her bookbag and taking off her robes. "I'm going to take a long bath and forget about all of today's events."

Ron smiled slyly, walking over and reaching out to undo the buttons on her blouse. "Mind if I join you?" her asked against her neck, kissing her in all the places she'd always enjoyed.

"Not today," she pushed his hands down gently, but squeezed them reassuringly. "I've just been a little exhausted is all."

He sighed in defeat. "All right, but you know where to find me if you change your mind…" he trailed off, his eyes dancing mischievously.

"I'll see you later, okay?" She reached up and kissed him on the cheek, before gently pushing him towards the door.

"Love you!" he threw over his shoulder on his way out the door.

"You too," she replied meekly, wondering if he'd even heard her.

* * *

Some time later, she emerged from the bathroom, her muscles thoroughly relaxed and feeling better than she had in a long while.

She dressed quickly, and was heading for the portrait hole when a throat cleared behind her. She sighed in exasperation before turning around and facing Malfoy, who leaned casually against a wall, his ever-present glare trained on her, as per usual. "What, Malfoy?"

"Sofa, now," he grunted, before turning and stalking off to the sitting room.

She stomped after him, driven by her annoyance. "Look, Malfoy, I don't know where you get off treating me like one of your promiscuous playthings, but I will never follow you around like a pathetic lost puppy," she fumed.

He stopped in front of the sofa, arms crossed over his chest. "Yet here you are," he smirked. She longed to slap it off his face.

"I do whatever I damn well please," she threw back. "And right now, that means I'm going to the library and away from the likes of you." She made to turn and do exactly so when she felt Malfoy's hand grabbing her wrist.

"I want to graduate and get out of this godforsaken place. So that means that you had better get on the sofa. _Now_ , Granger," he said.

She stopped her struggle before pausing. "What are you going on about gradua-" she stopped short as she remembered. Their first check-in was due that evening. She took her time glaring back at Malfoy for a few more minutes before stomping over to the sofa.

"Well?" she asked. "How do you want me?" She stared at him, annoyed that he hadn't moved from his spot and instead stood there, staring at her peculiarly. The words that had just slipped out of her mouth caught up to her then, and she flushed deeply.

"I-you know what I meant," she sputtered, wondering if it was possible to turn a deeper shade of red than she already had. She took the liberty of lying down on the sofa and squeezing her eyes shut, refusing to face the smirk she knew had bloomed on his face.

She felt him come over next to her, then started upright as she felt his hands tug on her blouse. "What are you doing?!" she yelped, pulling her top back down and covering the inch of skin he had exposed.

Her sudden outburst of movement had brought her up dangerously close to his face, and she paused for a moment at their proximity.

He took her momentary silence as a chance to shove her back down. "Had you been paying attention, you would have known that your stomach needs to be exposed for me to do this. Unless you'd like me to accidentally harm you?" he added.

She flushed again at that, recalling that she indeed hadn't been paying attention to Professor Jameson, but had instead studied him for half their class session that morning. "Fine," she finally said, yanking up her shirt to just above her navel.

He made a small sound of annoyance before shoving her shirt up to just below her chest. "So, the great genius Hermione Granger really hasn't been paying attention," she could feel the widening smirk in his voice even as the studiously avoided looking into his face.

His hands touched her bare skin and she jumped and looked up at him. "What is it?" he droned, seeming completely uninterested but nonetheless poised with his quill over a sheet of parchment, ready to report his findings.

""S nothing," she mumbled, flushing umpteenth time that evening. "Just cold."

He touched her again and she breathed deeply, trying to relax. She hoped he couldn't feel the goosebumps raising along every inch of her skin that he touched, even though his fingers barely ghosted over her.

He stopped and pressed slightly deeper at the hardened lump at the base of her stomach, which she looked down to notice was more visible than usual in the light cast off by the fire burning in the heath across the room.

"Is this it?" he asked, tracing his finger around the bump.

"Yes," she answered quietly, somehow enraptured by the surprising elegance of his long pale fingers painting small circles along her stomach.

He removed his hands almost immediately after her confirmation, picking up his quill and parchment once again. "How far along are you?"

"It's been about six weeks, so that would make me around three and a half months."

He wrote down the information diligently before lifting his wand and pointing it at her midsection. "Don't squirm," he grunted, before beginning the series of spells they'd been taught.

She studied him quietly, already forgetting the earlier promise she had made to stop doing so. The fire illuminated the blond in a similar fashion to how it had looked that morning, and she found her thoughts wandering back to what _his_ thoughts were. Behind the angry glares and insufferable smirks, what lurked behind those gray eyes? She knew that he'd changed, in some deep and inexplicable way, but nothing beyond that.

She opened her mouth to say something, anything to pierce the silence, when the heartbeat suddenly rang out in the room.

She was enraptured by it, fascinated by the fact that this was coming from inside her, yet wasn't hers all the same. And then she remembered her conversation with Ron and Ginny. _This may well be the only time I'll ever experience this,_ she realized. _And it's not even real_.

"Granger," Malfoy spoke, an edge of... fear? Apprehension, perhaps? She snapped her eyes to her stomach, and then to him.

"What? What's wrong?" she ran her hands over her stomach anxiously. "Speak, Malfoy!" she snapped as she watched him hesitate.

"Did I… hurt you?" He asked cautiously. She paused at his tone, realizing that she'd never once heard him say anything that wasn't shrouded in anger or cockiness.

"What-? No, no...I'm fine. I'm sorry, what?" She asked, confused.

"You're crying, Granger." He looked distinctly uncomfortable.

She frowned, confused, until she reached up and touched her wet face. _What on earth…?_ She thought to herself.

"Oh...it's… pregnancy hormones, I suppose." she answered quickly, avoiding his eyes. She felt him stare at her for a moment longer before writing it down.

"Well then," he stood abruptly and left, disappearing into his room. She let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

She sat up, embarrassed, and attempted to wipe her tears although she knew they would continue to fall despite her efforts. She cradled her stomach again, thumbing over the bump. _Yes, it's only the hormones,_ she told herself, knowing it was only partially true.

* * *

"Harry," Hermione called quietly. They were in his sitting room, and a fire crackled quietly in the hearth in front of them. She was sitting crossed legged on the floor, books open on the low table before her. Harry was sprawled on the couch behind her, an open book on his chest, flippantly controlling a set of charmed birds above his head.

"Hmm?" he asked, turning to look at her.

She turned until she faced him, twisting her fingers anxiously in her lap. "I...the other day, when Ron and Ginny were talking about children," she started.

Harry slowly sat up at this, awarding her all of his attention. "Yeah?"

"How...how did it make you feel?" she asked quietly, eyes still trained on her lap.

He was quiet for a long time, long enough that she looked up at him to see him staring into the fire beyond them, its flames reflecting in his spectacles.

"I…" he started finally. "It was hard to hear, at first," he admitted.

"You want kids, don't you?" Hermione whispered, feeling a lump rise in her throat as she thought about it.

"I thought I did," Harry said simply. "I still do, I think."

"Thought?" Hermione asked, searching his eyes.

He nodded sharply. "I never had siblings, growing up - Dudley certainly doesn't count," he added bitterly. "I'd always wanted to have a big family, to be able to show them all the love I never got growing up," he explained.

"Oh, Harry," she said, taking one of his hands in hers.

"But…" he said, looking down at her with a small smile. "I did get it, I suppose - I just wasn't looking in the right places."

She waited for him to continue, puzzled.

"You. Ron. The Weasleys," he explained. "They're the family I always wanted but never had. They're the love I needed to experience. And Ginny…" he trailed off with a smile.

"Just having her is enough for you, isn't it?" Hermione said simply.

Harry was pensive for a moment before he finally nodded. "I love her," he said. "And yes, I would love to have children. But...having her is enough for now, and even if our future isn't all that I'd hoped for, it's enough."

"How do you _know_ , though?" she asked. "How can you be certain?"

Harry looked at her knowingly. "Honestly? I don't know, Hermione. All I can do is trust that I am."

She nodded, turning to look back over the fire, her mind filled with more questions than she'd had before she'd even started talking.

* * *

"You know I love you, right?" Ron said as they strolled casually through the grounds.

Hermione laughed, hoping the stiffness of it went unnoticed. "Of course, I do."

"Good," he smiled at her. "I just like reminding you."

They strolled along the grounds in silence once again, taking in the sights of fall the drenched the nature surrounding them.

" _How_ do you love me?" The words tumbled out of her mouth before she could think them over.

"What?" Ron stopped and peered at her curiously.

"Nevermind," she rushed out, losing her unexpected bravado.

"How do I...love you?" Ron formed each word as though it were a question.

"Let's just drop it, Ron," she sped up and moved ahead of him.

He matched her pace easily. "Do you mean like… when we're making lo-"

"-No!" She flushed, accepting that tinged red was the new default state of her cheeks. "No, not that."

"Then what, Hermione?" He rarely called her by her full name lately, and the use of it made her pause and look up at him.

"What is it?" Ron said, searching her eyes. "And don't lie to me the way you have been for weeks now."

She exhaled, watching her breath curl in the cool air. " _How_ do you love me? Do you love me as a… lover… or..." she trailed off, letting the words hang in the air above them.

He stared imploringly into her eyes for a minute before he answered. "You _are_ my lover, Hermione."

"Does it _feel_ like you're with a love when you're with me though?" she pressed. "When you were with Lavender-"

"When I was with-? 'Mione, _what_? What does any of this have to do with my ex girlfriend?"

"Well, not just her, but any girl you've been with. It's just…" she hesitated, unsure of what she was trying to describe.

"It's just what?"

"When I was with Viktor..." she winced at his expression.

"You have got to be joking," he crossed his arms and glared into the distance.

"That's not-I mean-" she touched my fingers to his face to make him look at her, and he gave in surprisingly easily. "When I'd kiss him, I would get these butterflies that made me feel like-"

"Are you KIDDING me?" he shouted this time, startling away a group of first years that were wandering nearby.

"Lower your voice! That's not what I meant, Ron," she begged, looking around for any other potential observers. They were - unfortunately - left blissfully alone, leaving her with no excuse to extricate herself from the conversation.

"Then what do you mean, exactly?" he asked, his voice tinged with derision.

"I mean- have you ever felt that way with me?"

"Felt _what_ way?"

"Butterflies, Ron! A spark, an anything!" she heaved out in frustration.

"I…" he paused thoughtfully. "Yes, I suppose."

"When?"

"All the time, of course!"

"When was the last time, Ron?"

He pondered for a moment. "Remember when we went to the Yule Ball? I didn't admit it back then, but-"

" _Ronald_."

"That time we kissed, when we first got back to the Burrow after the War, it felt… right." he said earnestly. "Really, Hermione," he added after seeing her face.

"It felt right, yes," she said. "But only in the sense that it didn't feel completely wrong. Like this was meant to happen like this, because...well, because it was meant to happen." she added in a whisper, her voice faint this time.

"Baby, I…" the term of endearment that he had used so often felt _wrong_ this time, and she could tell he sensed that the moment it left his mouth.

"Do you really see me in your future? Us? As a family?" she prodded deeper, knowing it was time to hear the answers she'd been avoiding for so long.

"Is that what this is about?" he pointed accusingly at her bump, which was currently hidden away under her thick cloak. "Hermione, it's really not that big of a deal, we'll have plenty of nieces and nephews to play with, you won't even notice!"

"You say it's not that big of a deal, but you never asked if it was that big a of deal _to me_!" Her breath came out ragged as she continued on. "I am an only child, Ron! An only child! I have one cousin, and she's much older than me and lives in France. That's the closest thing I've got to a sibling, and we barely even speak! I've only held a baby once in my life Ron. Once! I held that baby and my mother stood there chattering on about how she _just couldn't wait_ until I have one of my own and-"

Her voice broke at the mention of her mother, but she drew in a breath and continued. "You just took that away from me Ron, and I didn't know how badly I wanted it until it was gone." Her eyes brimmed over with tears, and this time she let them fall.

Ron made no move to comfort her, and instead stood there staring at her open-mouthed, confusion etched into his every feature. "I didn't know, 'Moine, I didn't know, I'm sorry I didn't know," he said, and she could hear the truthfulness in his voice. "We'll have children. Plenty of them. A whole Weasley-load if you want! Anything, you want, Hermione. Anything." His eyes were pleading, and she noticed that there were tears gathered in his eyes, too.

"You don't want them, Ron," she said quietly, turning to look away from him.

"I…" he attempted a response, but knowing that the truth hung in the air in front of them, stopped short.

They stood in silence for a an immeasurable amount of time like this, Hermione staring off into the distance while Ron stayed silent.

"So is this it, then?" He asked quietly.

She looked up to meet his bright blue eyes, shining with the love and sincerity they always had. She searched them for a moment, looking for something deeper that she could latch onto, any reason why she should shake her head no. She found nothing, and nodded instead.

He accepted her answer quietly, and turned away to look over at the lake, his expression sad and pensive.

Eventually, she spoke again. "Have you ever felt like we were a fantasy? A fantasy that was created by someone else, but that we were being forced to fulfill?" She wondered if he'd say anything about her use of the word "were".

He didn't. "I...I don't know," he hesitated, before sighing. "Maybe?"

"You're my best friend, Ron," she whispered, turning to him. She reached out and stroked away one of the tears that had fallen down his cheek.

"Always," he whispered back, capturing her hand and kissing it.

"Love you, Ron," she smiled, genuinely for the first time in a long while.

"Love you, too, 'Mione."


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry for the delay everyone. I am now back on schedule, though! Thank you to my beta - so much love for you.**

* * *

 **FOUR**

Hermione found herself once again lying on the sofa, studiously observing the ceiling beams in an attempt to avoid staring at Malfoy. They no longer bickered during the check-ups, but instead sat in a tense silence while he ghosted his fingers across her in ways that somehow felt more intimate than she'd ever been with another man. The lump had grown significantly since their last check up, popping out into the size of a small melon seemingly overnight. It was still hidden well by her robes, but was currently unmistakable in the dim lighting the fire threw over her exposed stomach.

She studied his features, deep in concentration as he muttered spells over her.

"Will you ever stop staring at me, Granger?" he sighed, looking up at her with a raised eyebrow.

"I wasn't-"

"You turn the same shade of red every time I catch you."

"I...oh," she blushed more fiercely. "Sorry," she added, so quietly so she hoped he hadn't heard but knew he did.

"It's fine," he added. "I'm used to the attention."

She gaped for a moment, unsure if _Malfoy_ had actually just _joked_ with her. The moment passed quickly, however, and they soon lapsed back into silence.

"I meant it when I said I didn't hate you, you know," she said conversationally.

"And I still don't care," he added dryly.

"Well, either way, now you know," she added awkwardly. It was silent again as he took down more notes.

"So-"

"Do you _ever_ shut up?"

Hermione huffed. "I'm just trying to make conversation-"

"Who says I wanted conversation?"

"I can't always sit here in silence, you know," she muttered.

"Yes, you can." He paused. "Actually, I suppose you can't, with your awful retching in the mornings and constant visitors - including not-so-secret ones from the Weasel at nights," he scowled at the last part.

She gaped at him for a moments. "First of all, I'm preg-... ugh, nevermind. But I don't have that many visitors! And I'm not that loud," she muttered the last part.

"Interesting. So there are late night visits then?"

She scowled at the trap he had set. "Piss off Malfoy."

"Touché." She swore she caught a hint of a smile as he ducked down to scribble something on his parchment.

She stewed for a few moments while he continued his tests. "And if you must know, we broke up a week ago. And he hasn't... _visited..._ for weeks, anyway. So bugger off."

He said nothing in response, but looked up at her curiously for a second before they lapsed back into silence.

" _What_ , Granger?" Malfoy snapped up at her after a while.

"Nothing!"

"Then stop fidgeting!"

"I can't help it! Your fingers are _cold_ ," she moaned.

"Well, I'd rather not be touching you either, but-" he stopped short as she started.

"Are you _tickling_ me, Malfoy?!" she shouted indignantly.

His brow furrowed. "No, I-"

She gasped again and looked down at where his hand was splayed firmly - and decidedly unmovingly - on the bulge of her stomach. They locked confused glances for a moment before she felt the tickle again.

"Merlin!" she exclaimed, startling Malfoy. "It's the baby! It's moving!" she chattered on frantically, one of her own hands slamming down on top of Malfoy's as she slid her other hand around her stomach, feeling for another tickle.

Another came a second later. "Draco! Did you feel that? Our-" she cut off in her excitement, looking at Malfoy's startled expression and then down at her hand that held his pressed firmly against her stomach.

"The baby," she started again, wary of the look on his face. "Did you feel it?" she kept her voice low and steady, even as she felt another flutter right below their intertwined hands.

Malfoy withdrew his hand suddenly, snapping out of his frozen state. "Yes, I felt it, Granger," he replied stiffly, deftly writing down the development.

It appeared that her random outbursts of tears had passed, but she could not deny the overwhelming feeling of... _something_ after she'd felt that flutter. She shoved down the feeling of the other flutter she'd felt for an entirely _different_ reason only moments ago, tucking her hand (that now somehow felt too warm for her liking) behind her back.

"Him," Malfoy spoke again, so quiet so barely heard him. "I felt him."

She turned to look at him, confused for a moment until it dawned on her. "It's a boy?"

Malfoy nodded, standing up. He hesitated a moment before turning around. "Goodnight, Granger," he said before disappearing down the hall.

Later that night, she lay wide awake in her four poster, hands roaming gently around her bump for her son's - _her son's!_ \- movements.

* * *

Late one November night, Hermione found herself nodding off in the library, having spent the evening poring over her potions tome. She stretched and felt her bump nudge the table slightly. She looked down, annoyed that all she could currently see was the white of her blouse stretched over her bulging stomach. She looked around, noting that her dimming candlelight was the only thing illuminating the room besides the soft moonlight that drifted through the tall windows, illuminating the snowflakes falling outside.

It was the first snow of winter. She moved over to the window nearest her, admiring the snowfall. She watched for a long while, basking in the tranquility she so seldom found these days.

Instead of heading back to the dorms, she decided to make a trip to the Astronomy Tower on a whim. She snuck up the stairs as quietly as possible, knowing that there were some binds even her Head Girl privileges wouldn't get her out of. As she neared the top of her ascent, heated voices floated towards her.

"-just too much!" a male voice said before continuing, the rest of his words lost to her.

"So what if-" a female voice answered, anger palpable at the way her voice raised.

With a start, Hermione realized that she recognized those voices - it was Harry and Ginny. She peeked out the doorway and caught a glimpse of Ginny's red hair storming towards Hermione, stopping short as she recognized her friend.

"Oh-uh-hullo," she spoke, surprise clouding her voice.

"I didn't realize anyone was up here," Hermione said carefully, seeing the unspoken question in her friend's eyes. "I just decided to come up here from the library."

Ginny gave her a strained smile and a quick hug. "I'll see you in the morning," she said quickly, disappearing down the steps.

Hermione stepped out of the stairwell, breathing in the crisp night air deeply before turning to look over at Harry, who stood quietly staring off into the distance.

"Hi Harry," she spoke softly as she walked up and smoothed a comforting hand over his back.

She let him brood quietly for a while, knowing he would open up when he was ready.

"Shall we head back?" Harry asked eventually, gesturing towards the doorway.

They walked back arm-in-arm, whispering and laughing aimlessly.

"Stop," Hermione suddenly whispered urgently, pulling Harry into an alcove.

"Wha-" he managed before she clamped a hand down over his mouth. A second later, he heard the footsteps she had.

"Filch," she mouthed, removing her hand from him. Harry's eyes widened in alarm and he nodded.

She noticed, however, that the footsteps sounded like two sets, instead of just one, and they soon heard a voice floating over to them.

"If you would just stop for a minute-"

Harry and Hermione's eyes met in relief as they recognized the voice as that of Pansy Parkinson, another student who was just as guilty as they were for wandering the halls well past midnight.

"Piss off, Pansy," although the second voice held much less bite than she was used to, Hermione would know it anywhere. Draco Malfoy. As her luck would have it, Harry had already been stepping out of their hiding space, presuming safety, and stepped directly into their path. Hermione heard Pansy's and Harry's twin yelps, before stepping out herself, cringing at the two tangled bodies on the floor.

"Off, Potter!" Pansy hissed, ripping one of his hands off of her chest.

He sputtered awkwardly. "I wasn't- I was just trying to-"

As it was, it was clear that Harry's hands had been splayed out in a way to protect Pansy from hitting the floor completely, which had resulted in his awkwardly gripping a thigh and her chest with the other.

Malfoy did not move to help, and instead chose to watch them from where he had clearly stepped aside in time to avoid the collision, a bemused smirk dancing on his features in the dim moonlight. Harry scrambled to help Pansy up, and Hermione couldn't help but note the worried way he smoothed his hand over her belly, asking if she was alright. Pansy pushed him off, crossing her arms awkwardly over her middle while continuing to glare at Harry.

Malfoy's smirk dropped abruptly, as did Harry and Pansy's bickering when they heard the unmistakable sound of Filch's voice calling out into the hall.

"Run!" Hermione whisper-shouted, tearing off in a direction she hoped was opposite from Filch's voice.

Harry tore in front of them, tearing open a random door and herding them all inside before she could register what was happening. Their breaths were heavy as they attempted to quiet them, listening anxiously for Filch outside the door.

Eventually, they drew silent until Pansy spoke. "I think we're safe," she said, albeit quietly in case they were, in fact, not. "We should go."

"Supposing we are," Harry said derisively, "which way do you suggest we go when we come out?"

Pansy glared at him, but said nothing in response. As it were, Harry was correct. There was no way to know which way Filch had turned now, and thus no way to know whether he'd be waiting quietly around the first corner they turned, or even somewhere just beyond the door.

She reached out to examine the space they had crammed themselves into, and felt only cold stone walls on either side of her.

She could feel hot breath of one of her companions on her neck, and called out tentatively. "Harry?"

"Hmm?" Harry said from somewhere in front of her, sounding distinctly annoyed. "Could you move?" he said, annoyed.

Pansy huffed. "It's a bit difficult when your leg is blocking my path!"

"That's not my leg!" Harry insisted.

"Oh, sorry, it's mine," Hermione took an instinctive step back, which lead to her crushing against Malfoy.

He cursed in her ear, nudging her forward, and directly into Pansy.

"Ouch- what the hell, woman!" Pansy snapped, smacking away Hermione's hands which had landed directly on her bulging stomach.

"Sorry!" She stepped back again, shuffling to the side in an attempt to give Malfoy some room.

Malfoy, unfortunately, had had the same idea, and she stepped back into the full frame of his muscled body against hers. This time, he surprisingly said nothing to her, instead directing his ire at their companions.

"Can someone please just open the bloody door?" he snapped.

"I'm trying-Pansy could you just-" Harry stopped short, and was likely looking down at Pansy.

"What do you expect me to do, hmm? Just remove the baby in my belly? I have nowhere _to_ move!" Pansy complained, shifting forward until her rounded stomach bumped against Hermione's, shoving Hermione further into Malfoy.

Hermione heard a low groan behind her, and felt Malfoy extricate his crushed arm from behind her before awkwardly stretching it around her waist, resting it lightly on the side of her belly.

As if on cue, she felt the baby kick the spot where Malfoy's hand lay, and could not help the giggle that escaped, feeling her child's indignation at the invasion of his home.

"Are you _laughing_ right now, Hermione?" Harry asked, sounding equally perplexed and worried.

"Sorry," she said after another small giggle.

"Hold on-" Harry said, sounding alarmed. "The door's gone!" She could hear him slapping the walls frantically.

"What do you mean, _gone_?" Hermione, Malfoy, and Pansy said in unison.

"It's just disappeared… I…."

"Entire doors don't just disappear you idi-" Malfoy stopped short, and Hermione could hear his hands slapping the empty walls as well.

"OhMerlinI'mgoingtofaint," Pansy rushed out, reaching forward and gripping Hermione's shoulder.

"Relax, woman!" Harry snapped. She could hear his hands continuing to roam the walls.

Hermione felt her own breaths getting shorter and sharper, and she braced a hand against her stomach. She closed her eyes, focusing on her breathing. How long would they be in this cold, dark room, plunged in darkness? Without food, or water? What about the baby?

She jumped and let out a small squeal as she felt a hand rubbing the small of her back. It was tentative and unsure, but gained strength once she relaxed into it.

"Just breathe," Malfoy whispered into her ear.

Her heart thumped erratically as she felt him stretch out the hand he had rested on her side around to the front of her belly and start rubbing it gently as well. It was so...intimate, so absurdly intimate, that she missed Harry's words until he repeated them.

"Hermione!" he said again, raising his voice.

"Hmm?" she didn't dare open her mouth, not trusting her voice not to betray her feelings about Malfoy's - _Malfoy's_ \- ministrations.

"I think there's a door now?" he said, confusion lacing his voice. "See if you can reach the knob."

"Hmm? Hold on, I-" she cut herself off, cursing the tremor in her voice. She felt around, and sure enough, a wooden door had appeared on the side _opposit_ e to the one they had entered from.

She leaned forward, grasping for the doorknob, when she bumped her stomach into Pansy's once again. Draco's hand, unfortunately, had been rubbing in exactly the spot where they had bumped, and Hermione panicked for a moment, hoping Pansy hadn't noticed the foreign hand trapped between them. Hermione had no clue what their relationship was, but she had no desire to find out if whatever was happening between her and Malfoy had overstepped any boundaries.

The door flung open suddenly, sending Pansy flying first through the door, followed by Harry. Harry caught and steadied her, while Hermione and Malfoy stepped out from behind them into the room the door had revealed, which was bathed in soft moonlight that shone through a large window opposite them. The room was mostly bare, save for a few pieces of cobwebbed furniture that lay in the far corner of the room. Judging by the shape of some of the furniture she could make it, it seemed to be an old, unused classroom.

"Now what?" Pansy huffed, stomping over to the window and inspecting it. "It's completely sealed," she noted after inspecting it for a moment.

"Well, I suppose now we wait," Hermione said, looking behind her at the solid wall that had formed behind her and Malfoy where the door they had just entered through had stood. "Unless you fancy explaining to McGonagall exactly why we had to blast ourselves out of a room in the middle of the night?"

She moved over to inspect the window as well, examining the distance to the ground. "Besides, we'd have no way down even if we _did_ blast ourselves out," she added, frowning as she poked at the slightly frosted glass.

"I suppose we'll wait, then," Harry said. Hermione turned to find him pacing slowly, his brow furrowed.

Malfoy groaned before sliding to the floor, his head leaned against a wall. He closed his eyes, ignoring his companions.

Eventually, Harry and Hermione found themselves seated in a corner of the room, while Pansy had stayed standing, her pacing inflected with a slight wobble due to her pregnancy. Malfoy hadn't moved since they had arrived, and Hermione presumed he had fallen asleep.

"So, how much did you hear?" Harry asked lowly, breaking their long silence.

Hermione looked up, surprised at her realization that he was bringing up his earlier argument with Ginny. "Nothing really- just...arguing."

"It was nothing big, so don't worry."

"Okay," she trusted that he would open up if it was ever worse than that.

They sat quietly and contentedly for a long while, listening to the soft scuffing noises Pansy's shoes made as she continued to pace.

"How have things been since…" Harry hesitated. "...you know," he finished, peeking over at her.

"I feel… content, actually." she sighed. "I'm at peace now, in some strange way."

"Do you miss him at all?" he asked. "In _that_ way, I mean?"

"No," she said immediately, knowing she was being truthful. "I still have all the parts of him that I wanted. I think we were always meant to be this way, even though we were in denial about it for a long while," she added.

"Too long," Harry agreed.

"You noticed it too?" she looked over at him curiously.

"I saw something, but didn't really know _what_ exactly until you broke up. It was like…" he scratched his head, searching for the right words. "You were comfortable - too comfortable. Like an old married couple who'd already been through all the stages of romance and were happy with just having a partner."

"Only, we'd never actually been though the real romantic parts, huh?" Hermione said sadly.

"No, not really, not from what I'd seen. It's barely been a year since you've been together, and maybe if things had been different…" he trailed off.

Different people, at a different time, in a different place in their lives perhaps. Hermione sighed. "I hope he'll find someone who he can experience all of that with," she said sincerely. "I'll always love him, but not in the way he needs."

"You broke up with the Weasel?" Pansy cut in suddenly. She had stopped her pacing and instead made her way across the room towards them.

"Mind your busine-"

"I would, Potter, if I couldn't hear every word of what you're saying!" she snapped back. "Besides, I'm bored, and I'm up for a little gossip," she said casually, twisting awkwardly as she tried to lower herself to the floor until Harry and Hermione each reached out a hand to help her down.

"Thanks," she huffed, sounding out of breath as she hit the floor. "So, who did the breaking up?"

Harry shifted awkwardly while Hermione remained silent.

"Ah, so it was you," Pansy said matter-of-factly.

"And why do you suppose that?" Hermione said, surprised at her quick deduction.

"You mean, besides everything I just heard?" Pansy raised an eyebrow.

Hermione cursed inwardly, blaming her pregnancy brain.

"You seem… relieved," Pansy added, looking her up and down knowingly.

Hermione quickly changed the subject. "Well. what about you? Are you seeing anyone?"

"No-not really," Pansy answered quickly, her eyes darting over to where Malfoy sat, still unmoving. "Not anymore. So, what happened?"

Hermione glanced between Pansy and Draco, wondering what had happened there. "Nothing, we just… grew apart, is all."

"I don't buy it, especially considering that I've seen you walking around with that "freshy shagged" look on your face many a time," Pansy snickered. "What really happened?" she pressed.

Hermione blushed deeply, grateful for the room's dim lighting. Was nothing in her personal life a secret? "That's the truth, I swear!" she huffed.

Pansy looked at her, eyebrow raised, as her graze trailed down to where Hermione had been absently rubbing her belly. "Was it _that_?"

"No," Hermione said, too quickly for her words to be believable.

"Ah," Pansy said, smirking. "A bit strange seeing you carrying another man's child, isn't it?"

Hermione's hand paused and her stomach. "It's just a project, Pansy. Of course my relationship wouldn't end over it. Besides, it's not like I actually _conceived_ it with someone el-" she cut off, blushing. It felt awkward to discuss the mechanics of her pregnancy, especially with the pseudo-father in the room.

"Relax, Granger," Pansy looked down at her own bulging blouse. "Same predicament, remember? Besides, that's not what I meant. It was children, generally, wasn't it?"

"Wha-how did you know?" Hermione asked, shocked at the Slytherin witch's perceptiveness.

"Considering how much you started rubbing your bump at even the mention of your relationship issues, it wasn't hard to figure out," Pansy said, smirking yet again at her quickness. She began shivering slightly, rubbing her arms on the thin sleeves of her blouse. "It's getting cold in here," she added, rubbing faster.

It was. Hermione could feel bumps raised along her skin in response to the quickly cooling temperature, and realized that she, too, was already shivering.

Harry flicked his wand, and a few wooden table legs flew over to them.

"Harry!" Pansy and Hermione shouted in unison, ducking as a stray item flew over their heads.

Hermione whipped her head over to Pansy at her use of Harry's first name, wondering if it was just her imagination.

"Potter," Pansy corrected, breezing past her slip-up and studiously ignoring Hermione's curious stare. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Sorry!" he said. Hermione watched as he gathered the various pieces of furniture in a pile, muttering a quick _incendio_. The room was soon bathed in a golden glow, flickering across their faces as they gathered around it. All except Malfoy, that was, who remained in his spot, ignoring them.

"Thank you, Harry," Hermione smiled at him. "Oh!" she reached over and snatched his hand, dragging it over a slightly misshapen part of her belly.

"What is this?" Harry asked, looking thoroughly confused at what he was feeling.

"He's sticking out his little bum!" She said excitedly, rounding the lump with their hands.

"Aww," Harry deadpanned, before she smacked him lightly. "Sorry 'Mione, it's gotten a bit normal to me now, what with all the...you know," he said grinning back at her slightly. "It's wonderful, really, I meant it," he added.

Hermione beamed at that, giving the lump a slight poke. It would never not be strange, but it was also incredibly fascinating.

Pansy spoke up, as if reading her thoughts. "It's...odd, isn't it?" she said. "I mean, it's a whole _person_ moving inside of you."

Hermione nodded in agreement, then giggled. "He is a whole person - with a personality to boot," said, she smiling down fondly. "He'll rap at me when it's too noisy, and won't stop until it calms down sometimes."

Harry laughed at that. "It's like a puppy, but...so much more."

Pansy laughed as well. "Sometimes I swear I can feel her crossing her arms in annoyance when Potter says stupid things." She smirked at Harry's responding scowl.

"You're having a girl?" Hermione asked, taking in the glow on Pansy's face at her words.

Pansy nodded happily, patting her bump. "She's a fighter, this one."

"I wonder what they'll look like, what they'll be like," Hermione said. She imagined a little boy running around then, with brown curls and icy grey eyes.

"Hopefully nothing like Malfoy," Harry quipped.

"Fuck off, Potter," Malfoy spoke suddenly, causing them to jump.

"You're awake?" Pansy asked.

"How the hell could I possibly sleep with all this noise?" Although he was further away from the light of the fire, Hermione still caught the annoyed glare on his face.

"Here's to hoping he won't have Draco's attitude," Pansy rolled her eyes. "Come sit here, you must be cold." Malfoy looked as though he had no intention of moving at all, but surprised Hermione when he stood up stiffly and made his way over to them.

He sat down beside Pansy, staring hard into the fire. Hermione wondered what the true nature of their relationship was, opening her mouth to ask before letting the question die on her lips.

Hermione watched the glow of the flames dance across Pansy's face. Hermione knew she'd been slashed across the face during the war, yet barely a trace of it remained now. Her reconstructed features had most of the structure of her old face, although slight scars above her eyebrow and lip told different stories. Her nose had nearly been completely reconstructed, and now only held a hint of its previous puggish-ness. Her entire face seemed somehow softer now, devoid of the harsh, cruel lines she used to see. She wondered then if those lines had every been real, or if it had just been her childish naiveté that had led her to believe in their existence.

"I don't talk about your teeth, Granger," she said, eyes snapping up to meet Hermione's. "So don't even think of mentioning the nose," she added with a smirk.

Hermione looked away quickly. "I-"

"She's got a habit of staring, that one," Malfoy said, raising an eyebrow when she opened her mouth to protest, causing her to blush profusely instead.

"Truth be told, you're not so bad, Granger," Pansy said.

"I suppose I'll take that as a compliment," Hermione said. "You're alright, too, I suppose," she added quietly.

"It all feels silly, doesn't it?" Pansy started. "We all used to be so concerned about vanity, and blood purity, and…all these things that I can't recall anymore because they _just don't matter_."

"It's...painful to think about what could have been avoided if only the entire wizarding community had thought like this beforehand," Hermione said sadly.

Harry nodded in agreement, taking her hand and squeezing it. It was strange, almost, to be sitting so casually in an abandoned classroom with her biggest worry being about not getting reprimanded for wandering the castle at night. She chuckled at the thought.

"What is it?" Harry asked quietly.

"It's just...when was the last time we truly had nothing to worry about besides getting caught by Filch?"

Harry furrowed his brow for a moment, deep in thought. "You're right, 'Mione," he said finally. "It's... a weight that I was born with, just gone." She tugged on his hand and pulled him closer to her, giving him the best hug her cumbersome bump would allow.

The group sat in comfortable silence for a few moments, watching the flames sway gently in the breeze that drifted through the window.

"You know...I never meant it, Potter," Pansy said quietly. "I was just scared."

Hermione looked over at her curiously, wondering what she meant.

"I know," Harry said. "Me too."

She watched them quietly, observing the unsaid words they communicated with their eyes. It hit her then, what they were talking about. That fateful day in the Great Hall last year, when Pansy had elected to give Harry over to the Death Eaters. _Oh_.

"Oh!" Pansy shrieked suddenly, piercing the silence that had settled over the group.

"What's wrong?"! Harry shouted, springing over to her. She was clutching her stomach, her eyes squeezed shut in pain.

Even Malfoy looked alarmed, and he reached over and held her up from behind.

"Pansy are you alright?" Hermione asked, crawling over to them.

"I'm... fine," she squeezed out, her teeth clenched painfully.

"You can't possibly be fine!" Hermione exclaimed looking at her worriedly.

Pansy, slumped backward into Malfoy's arms, groaning. "I'm fine," she said. "It's just a phantom contraction, I think."

Harry nodded in understanding. "How many this time?" He asked her.

"Only two," Pansy wheezed, her breath coming out in small huffs.

Harry gestured for Malfoy to move away and he took Malfoy's place, and began rubbing her back as he spoke. "It's nothing to worry about," he said. "She's been having them for a couple of weeks now."

Hermione looked up at Pansy worriedly. "For _weeks_? Have you gone to see Madam Pomfrey?" Hermione asked.

"Of course I have," Pansy said, looking at her incredulously. "She said they're nothing to worry about and that hopefully they'll stop soon."

"Hopefully?" Hermione said, alarmed, running through the long list of pregnancy-related potions and spells she'd studied over the past few months.

"Yes, hopefully," Pansy said. "There's a chance they'll continue right up until I'm actually in labor."

"Have you tried-"

"All of them, Granger," Pansy said exasperatedly. "I've tried every single one, and nothing hel-" her words were cut off by a yelp of pain as she clutched her stomach again. Harry stood behind her, helplessly gripping her shoulders in an attempt to keep her upright.

"Will you be alright?" Malfoy asked, looking concerned. It was the first time Hermione had heard him speak to anyone with anything but disdain, and she snapped her head up to look at him. He was looking down at Pansy, his brow furrowed in concern.

"I'll be fine," Pansy said, looking at him gratefully.

"We need to get out of here," Harry stood and began pacing, examining the walls.

As it were, the walls had remained as solid as they had been when they first stepped into the room. It could be hours, or more before any viable exit it would appear for them. Hermione swallowed, pushing down the fear that she felt rising at the prospect.

"Urghh!" Pansy cried out again, arching her back in pain.

Hermione drew her wand and circled behind Pansy, pointing it steadily at her back. "Hold still for a moment, would you?"

"What do you mean hold sti-" Pansy craned her neck around, her eyes widening at the sight of my wand pointed at her. "Don't you dare!"

"It'll help, I promise!" Hermione aimed the tip at her lower back, adjusting it as Pansy started squirming indignantly.

"I think not!" Pansy protested, before hunching over in pain at yet another contraction.

"Hold her still, will you?" Hermione stepped closer, wary of Pansy's flailing hands as she attempted to swat at Hermione's wand. Neither man moved, instead looking warily at Pansy as she unloaded a stream of curses, equally aimed at Hermione and the pain in her stomach.

Hermione waited until Pansy was doubled over in pain once again before muttering the quick spell, which hit the small of the witch's back with a soft shower of sparks.

Instantly, Pansy sat up, turning to stare at Hermione, her features twisted with equal amounts of anger and relief. "Turn your wand on me again and I'll hex you to Kingdom Come," she snapped. "But teach me that spell," she muttered quietly, glowering at the ground. The group lapsed into silence once more, the only sound in the room coming from the soft crackle of the fire.

"Have you thought of any names?" Harry finally broke the silence, looking over at her.

"Names?" Hermione asked. Truthfully, she'd barely thought about it. Between classes and dealing with the constant illness and discomfort the pregnancy had caused her, she'd had little time to sit down and think trivial things such as that.

"I'm not sure," she said thoughtfully. "I'd like something short, I think. Something easy to remember."

"What would you have named your real child?" Harry asked.

"I suppose it would have been something simple like Daniel, or Thomas after my grandfather. I'm not really sure. Maybe both."

"How absurdly common," Malfoy snorted. Pansy let out a short laugh at that, her glower having finally begin to soften.

"And what do you expect we name him?" She spat back.

"Scorpius," He said simply.

"I cannot recall ever having heard a more pompous name in my life," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "Actually, it's almost as pompous as Draco," she added.

He scowled at this, glaring at her. "I won't have a Malfoy running around with a commoners name," he snapped.

"And _I_ won't have my child named after a Slytherin," she shot back.

"Surely helps that you're having a child _with_ a Slytherin, doesn't it?" Pansy smirked, to Hermione's continued annoyance.

"Daniel Scorpius could work," Harry added unhelpfully.

"No!" Hermione and Malfoy snapped in unison. They scowled at each other for a moment longer before Hermione tried to change the subject.

"Have you two thought of a name?" she asked.

"I've toyed with a couple," Pansy said. "Amelia, Laura, Sarah…"

"I quite like all of those, actually," Hermione said. "Not even a hint of pompousness in any of them."

Pansy laughed genuinely at that. "My family has always favored simple names," she said. "It's been ingrained in me, I suppose."

"What about Lily?" Harry interjected. "After my mother."

Pansy paused for a moment, thoughtful. "I like it," she finally said.

"Maybe not for her first name," he added hastily. "But... I like Amelia. Amelia Lily Potter."

"It's beautiful," Hermione agreed, and Pansy even nodded with a smile. "I wonder what she'll look like," she added wistfully.

"Potter's eyes would be nice," Pansy said quietly. "And maybe my mother's hair. I always liked the idea of combing my daughter's curls."

She smiled to herself as she imagined a curly haired child with Harry's emerald eyes running around. "She'll be beautiful either way," she said, alternatively picturing a child with straight, dark hair and hazel eyes, a mirror image of Pansy.

"Yours will be, too," Pansy said.

Hermione nodded at that, admitting to herself that Malfoy's beauty was sure to lend itself to their child. Even if their child inherited her frizzy curls, he would look stunning with Malfoy's grey eyes. Even in the reverse, his shiny platinum hair would look equally as beautiful on any other.

"The door," Harry said, shooting up. "It's back!" He ran over, pulling it open to reveal the hallway, both the broom closet they had entered through and Filch nowhere in sight.

Hermione scrambled to her feet, grinning excitedly. Just as she was about to step through the door after Harry, Malfoy shoved past her, causing her to stumble slightly, grasping the doorway for purchase. He paid her no mind, instead storming off down the dark corridor.

Pansy ambled up beside her, watching the blond's disappearing figure. "Best of luck with that one," she said, squeezing Hermione's shoulder sympathetically before waddling away herself.

She heard Harry mumble something decidedly insulting about the retreating Slytherin under his breath, and in that moment she couldn't help but agree.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you to my beta, I love you!**

* * *

 **FIVE**

The Christmas holidays were fast approaching, and snow had finally begun to fall outside in regular intervals. Hermione was standing by the window in their small sitting room, where she could see the grounds were covered in a fresh white blanket of it that glittered in the moonlight, untouched since the storm had stopped only minutes prior. It was beautiful, yet haunting in the way she could tell just how deep it was. She heard the click of the door when Malfoy entered, although she did not turn at first.

"It's late," she said once she sensed he'd entered the sitting room behind her.

"And this isn't the only thing in my schedule," he said, and she heard him padding over the couch where he was presumably pulling out his quill and parchment.

"I'm tired of it, Malfoy," she snapped, although her voice didn't hold as much bite as she wished it could. "You treat me as though my time has no value, none at all-"

"I don't give a damn about your time, Granger," he snapped. "Couch. _Now._ "

"I don't know who you think you're talking to, Malfoy, but you will respect me," she shot back, whirling to glare at him. She stopped short of unleashing the tirade she'd been building up to when she saw his face. He looked haggard and drawn out, and his normally alabaster skin contrasted sharply against large, dark circles underneath his eyes.

"Malfoy," she whispered, padding over to him. "Are you alright?" she sat down on the couch in front of him, peering at his features with concern. He hadn't looked like this in any of their classes today, or at all this semester for that matter. She inhaled sharply as she realized that he had likely been using glamours to cover his true appearance.

"Lie down," he said tonelessly, ignoring her question.

"I'm serious," she pressed, reaching out to touch his cheek. "You look like you haven't slept in weeks," she whispered.

He snatched her hand before it could make contact with his cheek. "Do not touch me," he ground out. "Lie down!"

She scowled at him, but acquiesced all the same. It was quiet as he exposed her large, rounded belly and began muttering the incantations they'd memorized weeks ago. She no longer flinched when she felt his fingers ghost across her skin, and, more often than she'd care to admit, found goosebumps rising in the wake of his touch. They weren't exactly an unpleasant feeling, but she decided not to explore those thoughts any further, because that was neither here nor there.

"Draco," she tried again when he was looking down at his notes. "What's happened to you?"

He looked up at her with a blank expression. "Many things have happened to me, Granger," he said. "But not a single one of them has a thing to do with _you_."

"Honestly, Malfoy, you could at least try to maintain some semblance of pleasantries with me," she said. "Your rigid behaviour has been entirely uncalled for - you act as though you're the only person who has suffered any hardships in life-"

"Hardships?" he laughed once, without humor. "What does the Gryffindor Golden Girl know about hardships?" He whipped his wand around her stomach in stiff, angry circles as he rushed through the rest of the required spells.

"I fought in the war too!" her anger had risen suddenly and swiftly, and she lashed out at him with abandon. "Do you think you know anything about what I've endured, what sacrifices I had to make to survive? Do you-"

"You won, Granger!" She'd never seen him look this angry before, and she would have shrank back had her own anger not mirrored his. "You _won_ , and you have _no idea_ what it's like not to be a hero after it all."

"You think because I can smile and laugh with my friends that I don't have nightmares about everything that's happened?!" she was heaving now, pulsing with rage.

"My entire life has become a nightmare!" he shouted back. "So save me from-" he stopped short as the spell he'd just cast resulted in a cloud of angry red sparks above her stomach.

Her mouth dropped open in horror at the sight, because _no_ , that was not right not at all, it was supposed to be white, a bright sparkling white-

Her thoughts were cut off abruptly as she cried out in pain. "Draco," she rasped, clutching at him as another sharp pain took her.

He was scrambling, shouting things as she started to sob in pain. It was only when he grabbed her face and forced her to look at him that she made out what he was saying: "Where, Granger? Tell me where!"

"Everywhere," she moaned, her voice barely a whisper. "Please," she tried to grasp at his vest, but her fingers slipped off of him uselessly.

She vaguely registered him lifting her into the air, and then they were moving moving - quickly. Her world faded into random snippets as the sharp pains in her stomach brought her in and out of consciousness. There were loud footsteps echoing in the halls. Then shouting - lots of shouting. A door slamming open, another unidentifiable voice joining the frenzy. Then, nothing.

* * *

She awoke with the sun, its soft morning rays making their way across her face as it rose in the sky, warming her skin until her eyes fluttered open.

She blinked up at the familiar high ceilings of the hospital wing before sweeping her eyes down past the sprawling windows to the small bed she say on, covered by a tall privacy screen. She ran a hand over her belly as she tried to recall why she was there. It came back to her in a flood, and she shot up in bed, letting out a strangled gasp.

As soon as she made noise, there was the sound of footsteps rapidly approaching and she looked up to see Malfoy pulling aside the privacy screen, looking frazzled as he crossed over to her beside.

"What is it Granger?" he asked, scanning her frame. "Where does it hurt?"

"I-" she rasped, wincing at the pain of flexing her disused throat muscles.

Malfoy tipped a glass of water to her lips and she gulped it down gratefully.

"Thank you," she whispered once the soreness in her throat started ebbing. "What happened?" she rubbed soothing circles over her belly.

"There was a complication," he said carefully, watching her hand's movements. "You've been here for three, nearly four days now."

"Is he-" she squeezed her eyes shut as a single tear leaked out, unable to finish her question.

"He's alright," Malfoy answered quickly.

"Then why isn't he moving?" she whispered back. "He's always moving, he keeps me up all night long, but I've been sleeping for four days and he hasn't woken me up, _not once_ -"

"Granger!" he took her shaking hand in his. "He is fine. Pomfrey put you under magically so that she could attend to you properly. That's all, I swear."

She felt more tears slipping down her cheeks as she nodded. At that moment, she heard Madam Pomfrey's footsteps before she stepped in where Malfoy had pushed aside her privacy screen in his haste.

"Miss Granger," the woman said kindly, casting a series of incantations over Hermione. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," she said, looking intently at the outcomes of each spell she cast hopefully. Mercifully, each one showed healthy, white sparks, and the baby's heartbeat made her burst into renewed tears when she heard its strength.

"Everything is alright," Madam Pomfrey soothed as the cancelled the last of the spells hanging in the air around them. "We'll need to keep you for a few more hours of observation, but you should be free to return to your rooms by this afternoon."

And so the next few hours passed by quickly, with Malfoy bowing out soon after Pomfrey with muttered excuses of homework to be done. Harry, Ron and Ginny visited her after breakfast, providing light and friendly banter which helped ease her remaining tension. By the time she was discharged and allowed to freely wander the halls, the infectiously high spirits of the students who were gearing up to return home for the holidays the following day had significantly boosted her own spirits. She spent the evening playing various games with Harry and Ron in the common room, laughing heartily even at their most crass jokes.

She went to bed early that night, feeling light and relaxed.

* * *

It was still dark when she woke, and she sat up, confused as she took in the moonlight floating through her window. It had been barely 9 when she'd gone to bed, and she imagined it must have been sometime past midnight.

There was a sharp rap at her door, interrupting her as she reached for her wand to cast light on the clock on her nightstand. Puzzled, she slipped out of bed and padded over to the door, wondering who on earth would be knocking on her door at this time of night.

It was Malfoy. He was looking down on her with a look that almost seemed concerned, baffling her entirely.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Are you alright?" he asked, looking her over. "You've been asleep all day."

"What do you mean all day? I went to sleep around nine and it can't have been more than a few hours-" she stopped short at his expression. "What?" she asked.

"Granger," he said slowly. "It's six o'clock."

She blinked at him.

"Granger," he lifted his wristwatch until she could she its face in the dim hallway light. "It's six o'clock. You went to sleep at nine - yesterday."

Hermione's mouth dropped open in shock. She snatched his wrist and drew it closer to her face, blinking rapidly in disbelief. "I-It can't be," she whispered.

Malfoy sighed, clearly exasperated with her antics. "It clearly says-"

"I know what it says!" she snapped. Her heart began to race as she realized the implications of what he'd just told her. It was six o'clock the next evening, which meant that she had _very much_ missed the train home for Christmas that morning.

"Oh _no_ ," she wailed, clapping her hands over her eyes as she felt them begin to well up with tears.

"Granger," Malfoy said, his voice panicked. "Don't-"

"Why didn't anyone wake me?!" she cried, feeling tears begin to leak from her eyes.

"They tried," Malfoy said. "Many times. Bloody annoying Gryffindors." She could hear the scowl in his voice.

"Oh gods, I can't Apparate, how am I supposed to get home?" she was panicking now. She needed to get home, she had to check on her parents, and she was too far along to Apparate or even risk travelling by the Headmistress' floo. She was quite stuck here, until she was able to take the train home - which had left this morning.

"Oh no, oh no, oh _no_ ," she spoke to herself as she began pacing. Her pacing likely resembled speedy waddling due to her bulging belly, but her panic overrode her desire to sit down.

"Granger!" Malfoy snapped, grabbing her by the shoulders. "I know a way to get you home. Relax."

"You do?" she turned to him, hopeful. "How?"

"I have a broom, remember?"

She balked at his suggestion. " _No_ , no way, absolutely not-" she stopped short. "Oh! I know something even better!" she exclaimed, rushing to grab her wand and shrinking her trunk quickly as she urged Malfoy to gather his things.

* * *

They were soon quickly crossing the dark castle grounds covered in heavy cloaks, their shrunk trunks stuffed into one of Malfoy's pockets. Crookshanks had been nowhere to be found, and Malfoy had adamantly refused to bring the cat with them regardless.

"Where the hell are we going, Granger?"

"You'll see," she said, before pausing to look up at him. "Wait. Why are you here?"

"Because apparently there's a better way to get home than on the fastest broom on the market-"

She rolled her eyes. "Not what I meant, Malfoy. Why didn't you take the train this morning? You were clearly up," she mused.

"Pomfrey asked me to monitor you," he said, looking away.

She blinked rapidly. "You stayed - because of me?"

"Don't flatter yourself, Granger," he said.

She smiled and reached over to squeeze his hand. "Thank you,"

He snatched his hand away, and began walking away brusquely. "Hurry up," he said.

"You don't even know where we're going," she said, breathing heavily as she struggled to keep up his pace.

"I'm not a complete fool. You're going into the Forbidden Forest, aren't you?" They were rapidly approaching the dark canopy of trees, and she felt a shiver go down her spine at the prospect of entering the forest. She nodded, and they were soon entering the forest, their footsteps crunching in the bits of snow that had managed to get through the thick canopy of trees.

"Look," Malfoy said quietly, pointing across from them to where a Thestral pecked quietly at a pile of fruit that had undoubtedly been left for him by Hagrid.

Of course they both both see them now - everyone could. The thought made her heart pang with sadness. There was a crunch of snow to their left, and their turned to see the rest of the herd nearby, nibbling at various piles of fruit or resting quietly.

They made their way over to where the nearest one was resting, and Malfoy bent down and gently began petting its long neck until it bowed with a keen, leaning into his touch.

"Come," he whispered, taking Hermione's hand and helping her onto its back. It was much easier now that she could see it, but also daunting, and she ran a nervous hand over her bump, whispering reassurances half to herself and half to her son. Malfoy followed, whispering reassurances into the creature's ears as he joined her on its back.

"Where are we going?" Malfoy asked once they were comfortably seated, his front pressed gently to her back.

"Oh, uh," she debated for a moment before saying her parents' address, hoping that the Thestral would understand. It stood immediately and started trotting out of the forest.

Malfoy wound his arms around her waist, steadying her as she swayed slightly. "Is this alright?" His mouth was so close to her ear that she felt his warm breath tickling at her throat.

"Yes," she whispered, flustered at his closeness.

They soon stepped out onto the grounds and were bathed in moonlight. She gripped him tightly as they pulled into the sky, soaring away until the Hogwarts grounds disappeared into a speck behind them.

* * *

 **I appreciate every review I get so, so much.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry for the delay everyone! I will be updating this fic sporadically (as you may have already guessed). I expect to update once every few weeks, but the period could be shorter or longer than that. In any case, I am sorry for the wait. Thank you for being so patient, and thank you for following my fic!  
**

 **ONE BIG ANNOUNCEMENT: This fic's rating has been officially changed from " T" to "M" (for sex, not violence or the like - although there is no such scene in this chapter). Please heed this change in rating. Otherwise, enjoy!**

* * *

 **SIX**

They flew high in the sky for hours, whipping through the clouds that left them covered in specks of dew that Malfoy would whisk away with a flick of his wand. At some point during the flight, she'd tangled her fingers with his over her bulging abdomen, and he'd only untangled himself to cast warming charms or dry them.

She began nodding off after a while, and he said nothing when her head began lolling back onto his shoulder. It seemed like only minutes had passed when he nudged her awake.

"Granger," he was saying quietly. "We're over London now."

She took a breath and chanced a peek over the side, and saw that they were indeed flying over the mass of the city's lights. "What time is it?" she whispered.

"Nearly ten," he said, peering over her shoulder to peek at his watch.

They started descending then, and she lifted cast a quick disillusionment charm around them before they settled onto the quiet, picturesque muggle street she had grown up on. Some of the homes around still had lights on, but none of the muggles could see through their windows to spy the witch and wizard sliding down from what appeared to be midair in their midst.

As soon as they got off the Thestral, it took off back into the sky, undoubtedly heading back towards the castle. Hermione made quick work of dismantling the various wards that she'd erected around the property before putting them back up once they'd made it to the porch.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow at this, and she flushed. "Habit," she said quietly, turning to unlock the front door.

They were soon stepping into the dark front hall of her home. It was covered in a thin layer of dust, and she banished it as they passed through the halls. Malfoy didn't ask questions, although she could feel them bubbling on his lips, the eerie silence in the home the only thing stopping them from spilling forth.

"They...they don't live here, anymore," she explained quietly as she ushered him into the living room. She banished the dusty coverings from the sofa, and began searching the room for spare firewood to stock the fireplaces. "The utilities have been shut off, so the fireplace will have to do for the night."

She began walking around the room, searching for firewood although she had an inkling that if it wasn't in the place that it was usually kept, it meant that there was none left at all. She worried at her lip, scanning the furniture in the room as she debated which pieces could be sacrificed in order to make a fire.

Malfoy sensed her hesitation and stopped her with an outstretched arm. "What's wrong with you, Granger?" Malfoy said.

"I…," she hesitated. "We need firewood, but I can't…"

He stopped her. "It's fine Granger," he said. "We'll use warming charms instead," he added.

"They won't last all night," she said. "We will need to keep casting them every few hours-" She cut off abruptly as he reached out and drag her down to the couch beside him, pulling her into his side.

"I don't sleep much anyways," he said dismissively. "Is this better?"

She looked up by him quietly for a moment before answering, wondering what demons haunted him so that they kept him up all night. Probably the same ones that hunted her own dreams, she mused. "I'm fine," She whispered, marveling at how he had managed to still smell good despite the hours they just spent traveling. She let herself nozzle deeper into his body warm, ignoring the hammering in her chest. She flashed, wondering if he could feel it.

"Go to sleep Granger," he said with an exasperated sigh. "I won't harm you, if that's what you're thinking."

"That wasn't what I was thinking at all, actually," she whispered. "Good night, Draco," she added.

He did not answer, and she let herself and drift off to sleep to the rhythmic sound of his heart beating against her ear.

* * *

Hermione rose with the sun, blinking her eyes open just as its morning rays began warming her skin. She carefully extricated herself from Malfoy's arm, smiling softly as she noted that the man slumbered beside her, his head tipped back onto the couch. True to his word, she still felt the warm embrace of a warming charm soothing her body, which would have otherwise been chilled by the otherwise frigid room. This time, she realized that she could stare freely and let her eyes sweep over his features which were equally sharp and soft, showing his transition from the pointier features of his childhood to the handsome ones of his adulthood.

She reached up a hand, gently tracing the lines of his jaw, feeling the stubble that had grown there overnight. She swept her thumb across his lips, and they fell open, his warm breath ghosting over her skin. They were full, and a soft, dusty rose that would have appeared almost feminine were it not for the heavy masculinity of his other features. Instead, they only enhanced his beauty. He shifted then, and she froze, snapping her eyes up to meet his silver ones.

"Good morning," she mumbled, feeling a blush blossoming on her cheeks. She stood, hastily brushing off her clothing. "There's, um, some toiletries set out in the bathroom. We'll have to use our wands to wash, but it's something," she rambled.

Malfoy said nothing, instead continuing to watch her with a raised eyebrow.

She shuffled awkwardly. "Right," she said finally. "Well, I'll just head to the one upstairs, then."

She turned and summoned her things from her trunk, avoiding his eyes as she hurried - well, waddled - past. She came back downstairs a half hour later, still waving her wand around her head as she tried to tame her curls. She started when Malfoy's hand stopped hers and he wordlessly brandished a bottle of Sleekeazy's and starting running it through her curls.

He worked for a few minutes, occasionally squirting more product or waving his wand around her head. "Where are we going?" he said finally as he stepped back.

She ran her hands through her hair, fingering the soft, shiny waves he had turned it into. "Thank you," she said, still awestruck at his handiwork. "Where did you-"

"My mother showed me how to do hers."

Hermione's brow furrowed. "But don't you have elves-"

"Where are we going, Granger?" he said gruffly, cutting her off.

His posture was rigid and unwelcoming, and she decided not to press. "I was thinking that we could get breakfast nearby, then visit my parents...I mean, you're free to do as you wish, you don't have to come with me, you can go home if you'd like-"

"Let's just go, Granger," Malfoy said.

She nodded, trying to search the unreadable expression in his eyes before she nodded and took his hand. She apparated them into an alleyway in muggle London, gesturing him to follow her around the corner. She led them to a small restaurant, and he raised an eyebrow at the muggles they could see dining inside.

"I'd rather not be featured in the papers tomorrow as having been seen traipsing around London while heavily pregnant - with the father of my child to whom am I not married, might I add."

He opened his mouth to speak but she cut him off. "I am aware that the requirements of this program have been heavily publicized, but the press have been circling me like vultures, just waiting for the right moment to paint me in the most scandalous of lights possible."

"Fair," Malfoy answered, and she swore she caught the ghost of a smile twitching at his lips. He opened the door leading her inside gently. The host was a middle-aged woman, who did a double take at them as she spotted Hermione's bulging stomach. She watched as the woman took in their youthful appearances before she frowned at the clear lack of a ring on Hermione's finger, making Hermione shrink back in embarrassment instinctively. But Hemione's own brows raised as she saw the woman look over her shoulder and up at Malfoy, her disapproving frown quickly morphing into a sheepish look. Hermione moved to give him a questioning look when he urged her forward after the woman, who had quickly gathered two menus and was striding deeper into the restaurant.

She tried - and failed - to focus on something other than his hand on the small of her back as they followed the host to a booth, where he took her hand and helped her settle herself around her belly. A waiter came and took their order quickly, and they soon lapsed into silence.

"How is— that?" Malfoy asked once they'd started to eat, gesturing at her stomach.

"Awful," she deadpanned. "He kicks- all day and all night. My feet are swollen and I have barely been able to see them in a month. My back hasn't stopped aching since October, and I'm _always_ craving treacle tarts. And sausages."

Malfoy blinked at her. "I see," he said carefully.

"But…" she bit her lip. "Despite everything, _he's_ everything, Malfoy. He's all I think about. And when..after what happened last week, I felt like I was dying. It was- unimaginable," her voice broke as she recalled the panic that had consumed her when she'd awoken with their child dormant inside of her.

"He's fine now, Granger," Malfoy said.

"He's fine now, yes, but…" she bit her lip. "Draco, I- I can't lose him. Not ever."

Malfoy's eyes sharpened. "You know that-"

"I know what the project entails," she said, her voice trembling at the thought, "but I also know how much I love my son, how I can't lose him." She paused, taking a deep breath. "I want to keep him. I did some research, and there might be a way- a way to save him. To keep him. I'm going to petition the Ministry, and I'm going to ask them if they'll allow for it, and I want to have him. I know that this wasn't your plan, but I won't ask anything of you, I swear it. And he won't technically count as your heir, so you can have your true heir with your-your wife, when the time comes. I know that the public already knows that he's yours, but please Draco, I'm begging you, let me do this, let me at least _try-_ "

"Granger!" Malfoy snapped. "Stop."

She hadn't realized that she'd yet to take a breath during her tirade, and now say there heaving, feeling tears ready to spring from her eyes as she looked up at Malfoy with a pleading expression.

"What makes you think-" he spoke through gritted teeth, "that I wouldn't want my son?"

"I-"

"I would suggest that you choose your words wisely, Granger." Hermione paused, watching the way his knuckles had turned white from how hard he gripped his mug of tea.

"I thought that you wouldn't want _my_ son," she said, looking down into her own mug.

Their waiter reappeared then, putting down steaming plates of food in front of them before retreating. Neither moved to touch their plates. She kept her eyes trained on her plate, watching the steam swirl and rise from her eggs.

"I don't care about blood status anymore, Granger," Malfoy said, breaking the silence. "When was the last time that I called you a-" he paused, and she looked up to see him looking away from her, his jaw locked as he swallowed the word.

"Mudblood?" she finished quietly for him. "You haven't- not in years." She looked up at him, sadly noting the way his jaw was still clenched.

"Malfoy," she whispered. "Are you certain this is what you want? I've spent so long thinking about it, about him, but you haven't had the time-"

"I want him, Granger." He met her eyes then, and she saw the truth reflected in them.

She nodded slowly. "We'll need to work out schedules and-"

"-I know," he said. "Let's just focus on keeping him."

She nodded again, this time running a hand over her stomach where her son - _their_ son kicked enthusiastically.

* * *

The ride up the lift to the Janus Thickey ward of St. Mungo's was silent. Malfoy stood quietly beside her, silent an unexpressive save for the small frown she'd caught ghost across his features when he'd seen her press the fourth floor button. Her stomach somersaulted as the lift lurched and stopped moving, opening the door to show the ward's pristine white walls. She nodded at several Healers as she walked by, many of whom nodded back before raising their eyebrows at her companion. They walked down several corridors and turned many a corner, Malfoy silently following behind her all the while. Finally, she stopped in front of a closed door at the end of a quiet hall.

"They're…" she hesitated, "...not the best," she finished. "But thank you for coming with me."

Malfoy nodded, his grey eyes flicking from her face to where the gripped the doorknob hard. He gently pulled her hand off the knob before replacing it with his own. He gave her a questioning look, and she swallowed before nodding, watching him turn the knob and slowly pushed the door open.

Inside was quiet, save for the soft beeping of the spells above the two beds on either side of the room that played the sound of her parents' steady heartbeats.

The room was decorated in what was a clear effort to emulate a muggle living room. The pictures they had hung on the walls had been charmed frozen in awkward stances, a plethora of awkward smiles and people half out of frame. Coupled with their mismatched clothing, it made for quite the sight. Normally, it would have been something that would have made Hermione chuckle, but instead it only reminded her of the depth of her sorrow. The two magically subdued bodies were unmoving save for the soft rise and fall of their breaths.

Hermione said nothing, instead crossing the room to plant soft kisses on the foreheads of each of her parents. She watched their serene faces for a long while, knowing how incongruent the peace that was reflected on their faces was to the turmoil going on in their broken minds — minds that _she_ had broken.

After a while, she went to sink into one of the small plastic chairs beside where Malfoy had been sitting since they'd entered, as silent as she was. He handed her a handkerchief that looked suspiciously as though it had been transfigured from his cloak, and she accepted it gratefully, using it to dab at the tears she hadn't realized had steadily been falling.

"I obliviated them, before the war," she said when she finally spoke. "But I was excessive, and they're muggles, so…"

"Is it reversible?" She heard the hesitation in his tone, likely in acknowledgement of the fact that they were currently in a ward designated for permanent magical injuries.

"They don't know," Hermione said. "They try to wake them every month or so as they continue their efforts at reconstruction, but so far…"

"There's hope, Granger," he said.

She nodded, running a hand over her stomach. "They would have wanted to be there for every second of their grandchild's childhood," she said. "And now…" she trailed off. She'd owled her plea to Kingsley directly after breakfast, begging him to forward it to the proper officials. They had yet to receive a response, but only a few hours had passed since.

"You can still bring him here," Malfoy said. "He can know them, even if they may not know him."

She nodded again, turning sad eyes back to her parents' prone bodies. "Will your parents be alright with this...agreement?"

Malfoy visibly tensed and did not answer.

Hermione scanned his reaction and deflated, worrying at her lip. "They won't, will they? What—"

"My mother is ill."

Of all the reasons she thought he would give, this one gave her pause. She looked up at him, for the first time seeing a tinge of sadness and fear in his expression. "How ill, Malfoy?" she asked quietly.

"Very," his answer was short, but his voice was chock full of emotion.

Suddenly the behavior she'd observed over the term was shed into shocking clarity. His brooding aloofness, even with his friends. The anger and frustration that seemed to radiate off of his in waves, hanging over him in a haze. How well he had known exactly how to do her hair that morning. The day she'd caught him alone in an empty classroom with red-rimmed eyes…

"Draco," she whispered, closing her hand over his own. He tensed but did not pull away. "Why aren't you home?"

His jaw clenched. "She refuses to let me see her like this any longer."

"Oh, Draco," she whispered.

He said nothing, but the tension in his body did not ease. She stood up suddenly, swaying slightly. Malfoy immediately grasped her by the arm, his other hand on her bump to steady her. "Where are you going?"

"We're going to your home," she said, her voice unwavering. "She might not want you to see her like this, but you need to see her. You have to, and you know that." She held out an expectant hand, watching as he stared at it for a few long moments before he took it, standing.

"Let's go," she repeated, pulling him out the door.

* * *

 **I appreciate every review I get so very much. Thanks for reading!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Sorry for the impromptu hiatus everyone! My life got pretty tough/busy for a while there and I really wasn't up to writing. I'm getting back to updating my fics now though, so it shouldn't be as long between updates anymore. Thank you all for following!**

* * *

 **SEVEN**

They floo ed to the Manor from the Ministry, and Hermione stepped out after him into a lavishly decorated room. Malfoy immediately hurried across the room to where the double doors stood open, peering about.

"They rarely venture down here lately," he said. "But still— come quickly, just in—" he stopped short as he turned to look at her.

She knew she must have looked a fright, frozen as she was. One hand clutched her rounded belly, while the other was balled in a tight fist at her side. She was trembling fiercely, and she was biting her lip hard enough that she could taste blood. The light around her faded away into darkness, and the only light she could see was a pale face looming over her, blood red lips opening to reveal glittering teeth, screeching words that had red hot pain searing through her body.

"—Granger!" Her eyes met his for a moment, but the tremble that had taken over her body had yet to subside. He tilted her chin up and forced her to look at him again. "Granger," he lowered his voice to a whisper, "talk to me."

She opened her mouth but the words did not come. Just being present in the room made her feel like she was suffocating, the walls drawing closer in on her with every ragged breath she sucked in—

"Breathe." His voice was a soothing trickle that settled over the dark cloud that roiled above. "Again."

She somehow followed his instructions, but the effect was slow. "I—" her voice was a croak, and she closed her mouth as quickly as it had opened.

"Tell me," he said in his low, soothing tone, "tell me how you're going to save our son."

At the word, one of her hands flew to the swell of her stomach, feeling around for the baby that lay quiet within. "He—I—" her voice trembled and she stopped.

"Tell me," Malfoy urged.

When she spoke, her voice was a near-whisper. "I think they've—" she stumbled but continued, "I think they've created a fusion of a human and a temporary magic entity for the purposes of the project. He's growing like a real human but at—at a quickened pace, and if they can cast a spell to separate whatever makes him partly a temporary magical entity from what is human about him, then— then—" she continued to tremble so violently that she stumbled.

"Then what?" Malfoy's hands were gentle as he pulled her closer, rubbing soothing circles on her back.

"Then I think he'll be human... _just_ a wizard, and we can have him. Forever."

Malfoy pulled back to look into her eyes, his own so deadly serious that the chattering of her teeth stopped as she looked back at him. "And that's what we'll do."

Hermione nodded. She lifted her hands slowly and curled them around his waist, only stepping into him when he did not freeze or reject her. She held onto him until her trembling stopped. Neither spoke, and the only sound in the room was the light brushing of his hand on fabric as he took to rubbing her back once again.

When she finally pulled away she was reluctant. "I'm alright now," she promised.

He scanned her for a moment before nodding. "Come," he said.

She did not question him when he disillusioned them and lead them quietly through the Manor's many halls. She imagined that it was menacing even when lit by the bright light of day, but the discomfort of seeing the darkened halls settled in her core. Deeper still than the menacing stature of the Manor's decorations was the chill that whispered of death that permeated the air. The silence spoke volumes of the unspeakable horrors this home had witnessed. By the time Malfoy pulled them into a room and closed the door firmly behind them, the chill had burrowed so deep that she knew it would haunt her dreams for weeks to come.

They were in a bedroom decorated in tones of emerald, onyx and silver. It was lavishly outfitted, decorates with high, vaulted ceilings and grand windows that showcased the night sky outside that glittered with the light of a thousand stars. She watched Malfoy wave his wand to ignite the large fireplace that dominated the far corner of the room, unable to ignore how the sudden influx of heat did nothing to settle the chill in her bones.

"We can't raise him here," she blurted when Malfoy turned around to face her.

His expression was hard and unreadable. "We won't," he answered stiffly.

"I'm sorry," she continued, the words pouring out in a sudden torrent, "I know that it's your home and you were raised here — many generations of Malfoys have been, I imagine — but he can't— I can't—"

He crossed over to her in a few swift steps. "I would burn it down if I could."

His voice was so steady and venomous that she paused. Her fingers twitched toward him as she fought back the urge to reach up and cup his cheek. "Okay," she said instead.

She took in their opulent surroundings once again, her hand folding over her stomach and running over it in tense circles.

"What is it?"

"I just…" she looked around again before looking back at him, "I don't know how we're going to manage this. We're so different, and he's a baby, and we'll have to move him around and make him adjust to everything we do, and…"

"We're not muggles, Granger. We can live wherever we please and travel by floo. He will never want for anything. What matters is that he has parents who love him, who want to protect him from—" he stopped short, and she did not miss the way his fists clenched briefly before he released them. "He'll be safe, happy, and loved. That is what parents are for, is it not?"

The broken look that flashed on his face for an instant broke her, too. "Go to her."

He turned away, gesturing to a large armchair across the room. "Sit. I won't be long," he said, crossing to the door. He paused when his hand was on the knob. "And don't— do not leave."

"I won't." Her voice was small as she took in the warning in his.

He slipped out without another word, and she settled herself in the armchair. She was weary but unable to sleep. The emptiness the room made it difficult for her to find any comfort in the plush chair. She looked around, taking in the decor that felt unlike Malfoy although she could not pinpoint what exactly made it so. She stood and made her way over to a tall set of mahogany doors that were carved with an intricate weave of serpents. Behind the doors was a bathroom that appeared larger than their suite of rooms back at Hogwarts. The tub alone was nearly as large as the prefects' bath, and was outfitted with gleaming faucets that were carved of snakes with gaping mouths. For a moment she yearned to slip in and take a long soak to relieve the ache in her back that had grown only more pronounced as her pregnancy continued.

She slipped out of the bathroom before her yearning grew more pronounced and made her way over to the next set of doors. These lead to a closet that was filled with neat rows of clothing. Shirts, pants, and robes all arranged in neat rows. It looked untouched despite the lack of dust touching anything. She hadn't a doubt that it could be attributed to a constant flow of elves that kept it spotless, regardless of whether their master touched them or not.

She pulled the doors closed as quickly as she had opened them. It had been barely over a half hour since Malfoy had gone, but she was already growing anxious and restless. Every minute that passed had the discomfort settling deeper into her. She thought of when she'd last seen Narcissa Malfoy, her features proud despite the tinge of fear and sorrow Hermione had seen lighting the woman's blue eyes. She realized then that her son may only come to know but one of his grandparents, and Hermione's heart quickened at the idea of Lucius Malfoy touching her son. No, she decided, that would be avoided as long—

A creak on wood made her freeze.

She wondered if she had made the noise, looking down at her boots that she knew she'd long since cast a silencing charm upon.

Another creak.

She wondered if it could be Draco. Prayed, even, that it would be. But the roiling discomfort in her stomach told her that it wasn't, and her heartbeat started to race as she moved to the nearest curtain and slipped behind it, disillusioning herself. The doorknob opened slowly, and she ducked her head behind the thick fabric just as the door started to push open. She dared only to raise a finger and slide it along an inch-long sliver in the fabric with a whispered spell, creating an opening just small enough for her to peep through with one eye.

Even in the low firelight, the figure of Lucius Malfoy was unmistakable.

Hermione's entire body started to tremble as she pressed herself back against the wall. Just a brief glance had her clamping a hand over her mouth, stifling her gasps as she tried to stop the harsh, ragged breaths that threatened to release.

It was then that a sudden sharp pain had her hand flying to her middle. Tears sprang to her eyes as she buried her fist in her mouth, forcing herself to swallow her involuntary cry. _Nononono_ , she pleaded desperately to herself. But what followed was a sudden gush of fluid that crept down her thighs, as unmistakable as the man whose footsteps she could hear approaching the place where she hid.

* * *

 **I appreciate every review I get so very much. Thanks for reading!  
**


	8. Chapter 8

**Thank you for bearing with me. Life has been really hard lately so I can't say that my updates will ever be regular - thank you for reading anyway! I love you all.**

 **Thank you to my beta for being you.**

* * *

 **EIGHT**

Hermione bit her lip until until it bled. It did nothing to ebb the pain of a second contraction as it hit her. One of her hands was pressed into her stomach, fisted in her robes. _Not yet, please, not yet,_ she begged silently.

The footsteps echoed in the room as Lucius drew closer. Hermione felt ill. Her heart pounded as another contraction had her pressing into the wall, biting back the cry that threatened to burst out. She wondered if he could hear her anyway, see the puddle of liquid that seeped out from beneath the curtain—

The door slammed open.

"Father," Malfoy's voice cut into the silence.

There was a moment of tense silence. "Draco," Lucius' voice was close, dangerously close, and she burrowed her fist into her mouth to stop any of her small, pained noises from leaking out.

"Leave." Malfoy's voice was short and clipped. Even from her hidden perch, Hermione could feel the tension that permeated the room.

"I believe I taught you manners, once upon a time."

Malfoy let out a short, chilling laugh. "I don't recall. Must be lost in my childhood memories somewhere amongst the hatred, cruelty, blood purity—"

"So that is what continues to ail you." Lucius' tone was cool, yet held an undercurrent of warning. "I've read about your Ministry-ordained... dalliance with the mudblood."

Hermione's blood ran cold.

"After everything this war has done to us — to mother, this is what you focus on?" Malfoy sounded near-murderous. "Get out."

A tense silence fell just as another contraction hit. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, praying for relief, that Lucius would leave—

"Draco." She couldn't pinpoint the exact shift in his tone, only that everything shifted then, the tension swirling and reforming into something thick with raw intensity.

"When will you admit it?" The sorrow that punctuated Malfoy's words burrowed like shards of glass in her chest, the rawness of what he'd kept bottled inside for so long leaving her treading as harshly upon her emotions as the pain of her contractions.

Silence fell in the wake of his words. Hermione imagined the look the father and son but a dozen steps away from her shared, standing so close yet separated by a chasm of pain.

"When will you admit that even though we'll never know who truly cast the curse, it will always come back to you? You and the decisions you made that led us here, led her here — in a prison with her true executioner as she lives out what may be her last days?"

"Draco…"

" _Don't_ ," Malfoy's anger snapped like a whip. "Don't say my name like you have any right to it, to me. We are _nothing_. Leave."

Another long silence fell before she heard Lucius' footsteps as he crossed back over the room, and the sound of the door as he pulled it open.

 _"It should have been you,"_ Malfoy said.

There was another tense silence before the door slammed shut.

"Granger?" She heard his footsteps as he searched the room.

"Here," Hermione's voice was small as she emerged from behind the curtain.

Although it was dark, Hermione could still see the conflict in his eyes, a whisper into what he'd tuckeded back away under his shroud of indifference. "I apologize...for what you had to hear."

Hermione met his eyes, wanting to say so much yet having the words for none of it.

"I—" she started before another contraction hit, causing her to double over in pain.

He caught her, and when she managed to look up his features were wraught with concern. "What happened? Where does it hurt?"

Hermione grasped his arm tightly. "I'm in labor," she wheezed, still catching her breath. "We need to get to the hospital now, please, we need to contact the Ministry so they can send someone to save him, please—"

He pulled her upright. "It'll be fine, Granger," his eyes burned with his promise. "I swear it. We need to get into the Floo— now."

* * *

They stepped into St. Mungo's, Hermione waddling in pain behind Malfoy as he barked at the first Healer they saw. Things happened quicker than she could process them, her world dissolving into mindless points of pain before she would resurface to find herself having been moved to a new location. It wasn't long before she came to and found herself lying in a bed. Malfoy stood at her bedside, watching her with a concerned intensity.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

A contraction hit then, and Hermione couldn't suppress her pained cry. "What if they don't come in time?" She was breathless, pressing a desperate hand into her stomach. "Please wait baby," she begged. "Just a little longer."

"They'll come," Malfoy said. He slipped a hand into hers then and the gesture caught her so off guard that she felt her mind go blank, her focus going straight to the heat of his hand against hers.

Reality flooded back to her as another contraction hit. "Draco—" she squeezed his hand tighter in her desperation, "we need them to come before. Now. He can't come before, he can't because—" her breaths quickened as she thought of the possible consequences.

"Granger," he said, pressing a gentle hand to her bulging stomach, "you need to calm down — for him. Then explain."

She waited until her breaths slowed to a normal rhythm. "When I was searching for a way— a way to keep him, I found things on accelerated pregnancy. Tons of things. But there was nothing, _nothing at all_ on what a temporary child would be like— who would want to write about something so— _horrifying—_ "

"Breathe." He squeezed her hand again. "Breathe."

"Nothing about it seems to exist anywhere but wherever the Ministry has locked away the information, Draco." She felt tears springing to her eyes as she thought of what might happen if they didn't come in time. "If they don't come, then we might not be able to keep him. We might lose our baby, and—"

A knock at the door stopped the flood of panic from rising in her chest.

"Come in," Malfoy said with a steadiness in his voice that she wouldn't have been able to muster.

The door opened and a tall, slender woman dressed in Healer robes stepped into the room. Her hair was cut in harsh cut that ended abruptly at her cheekbones, only serving to emphasize her severe, pointed features.

"Hermione Granger?" The woman asked.

Hermione nodded. "Yes?" The sound was little more than a croak as another contraction hit her.

"You and—" the woman's eyes flicked to Malfoy, "— Mr. Draco Malfoy have expressed your wish to keep the program-ordained child that you are currently carrying. Is this still your wish?"

Hermione nodded fervently. She'd opened her mouth to answer when she paused and looked up at Malfoy. She was surprised to find him looking down at her, his eyes burning with intensity.

The consequences of their decision had never felt as real as they did then, and Hermione's heart raced with the implication of how forever changed their futures would be.

But the intensity that shone in his eyes was not difficult to pinpoint, as it was the same emotion that she felt burning in her own chest.

It was him who spoke for them. "Yes."

The woman nodded and stepped closer to Hermione. "May I?" She looked pointedly at Hermione's stomach.

The woman lifted the sheets and Hermione's gown, and a moment later she felt a tickle of warmth against her bare belly. The woman stepped back not a moment later, neatly folding the sheets back in place.

"That's...it?" Hermione blinked.

The woman nodded. "The Ministry wishes you well." A moment later, she was gone.

Malfoy turned back from where he had politely turned away. "Are you alright?" he asked, his eyes flickering to her stomach for a moment.

Happiness overrode her lingering confusion, and she gave him a wide smile. "More than," she said, maintaining her watery smile even as another contraction came on. "I think he's coming," she said.

"You mean-?" He didn't wait for her to answer. He crossed to the door in two quick strides, slamming it open and hollering in the hall for a Healer.

Hermione's ensuing giggle felt manic, and she couldn't stop even when Malfoy and two perplexed Healers stood before her.

"Erm, Ms. Granger…" one of the Healers started. "Are you…?"

"I'm ready to meet my son, is all," she said, sobering. "Our son," she added as she met Malfoy's eyes.

One of the Healers gently guided her feet into stirrups. "And by the timing of your contractions, it looks like he's ready to meet you too."

Malfoy had moved away from where the Healers were positioning her, shuffling awkwardly as his eyes shifted between her and the door. "I'll just-" he made a gesture toward the door.

"No," Hermione said, trying to supress the rising panic in her voice. She held out a hand. "Please."

He hesitated for another moment before he crossed back over and took her hand. "Are you certain…?"

"There is no other place you should be right now, Draco," she said.

An emotion she couldn't place passed in his eyes then, disappearing as quickly as it had come when a contraction hit her and she squeezed his hand.

"Miss Granger," one of the Healers said, her voice tinged with urgency, "we're going to need you to push."

"Al-already?" she asked, and the Healer nodded quickly.

"Push!" The Healer between her legs encouraged.

Hermione pushed, screaming until she was breathless. She didn't realize she'd started crying until she felt Malfoy's hand wiping her cheeks.

"You can do this," he encouraged.

"Push!" The Healer said again.

Hermione screamed and squeezed Malfoy's hand, letting the blinding pain overcome her.

"Another!" the Healer said nearly as soon as she finished and flopped her head backward in a sobbing heap.

"You're so close, Granger," Malfoy's soothing voice cut through the pain that fogged her mind. "Just one more."

She still clutched his hand in a deathly grip, but he was uncomplaining.

"One more," he repeated.

Hermione managed a weak nod, and pushed a second later. He sobs returned anew when the room was filled with cries.

She had a son.

The chatter of the Healers as they bustled about her and the baby passed over her meaninglessly. All of her attention was riveted on the screaming baby as they handed him to her. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks as she looked down at the tiny bundle in her arms. He had a tuft of white-blond hair, such a reflection of his father that she let out a sob.

"We have a son," she sobbed. "He's perfect."

She turned to Malfoy then, and she saw the same emotion reflected in her face that she knew she wore, too. His eyes slid to hers, and her happiness swelled, warming her chest.

He smiled back at her then. It was so beautiful, so soft, that her mind didn't catch up to the way she tilted her head up and leaned forward until he was already leaning down himself.

And then their lips met.

His lips were soft as slow as they moved against hers, his hand gentle as he raised it to cup her cheek. It lasted but a moment, but her lips tingled with the sensation of it when he was gone, and everything in her reached out to him, somehow feeling incomplete now that she knew this new, unexplored level of completion. His eyes held hers even though their lips no longer touched, and he was still so close that she needed to move but an inch to press her mouth to his once more.

"Have you thought of a name?" the Healer's soft question broke their trance.

Hermione blinked, trying to bring herself back to reality. She looked down at their son, then back to Malfoy, who nodded.

"Cassian," she told the Healer. "Cassian Liam Malfoy."

"It's beautiful," the Healer said as she wrote the name down. "We'll be back to check on you later."

Hermione barely registered the Healers leaving. She was so enraptured by her son's every movement, that it felt like everything in her world had fallen apart and reconstructed itself around this tiny human. He was everything, _everything_.

It took everything in her will to hand their son to Malfoy. She watched him handle the bundle tentatively, his arms already practiced from the lessons they'd had during the semester. She wondered if any single moment in her life would ever outweigh the perfection of this one. But no — there was no way there could be.

"Are you alright?" Malfoy's soft voice broke her trance.

"More than," she smiled up at him. "More than."


	9. Chapter 9

**Thank you guys for waiting! Another friendly reminder that I changed this fic's rating to M a few months ago for reasons that are apparent in this chapter.**

* * *

 **NINE**

Hermione's eyes snapped open and she slid out of the bed, making her way toward where she'd left the nursery door ajar what felt like only minutes ago. Bright moonlight still streamed through the windows, as it had for the past four times she'd awoken to the sound of Cassian's cries.

She stopped short when she saw that Draco already held their son in his arms and was whispering to him in a gentle tone.

"Draco," she said, her voice still groggy with sleep.

He turned to her, a soft smile still lingering on his lips. The soft moonlight shone on father and sons' heads alike and gave them each a beatific glow, and Hermione wondered how she'd ever thought of him as anything as harsh as the reputation that came with his family name when he could manage to look this serene.

"I tried to calm him, but I think he's hungry," Draco said.

Hermione nodded and settled into the rocking chair. She'd started to tug down the strap of her nightgown when Draco clearing his throat stopped her short.

"I—" Hermione stammered, shoving the strap back into place.

Draco handed Cassian to her. "You've barely slept. It's understandable."

"Thank you," she said.

"I'll just, uhm," he gestured to his room.

"You can just turn around, " she assured him. "I...appreciate the company."

He nodded and turned, and they fell into silence as she started to feed their son.

"Everyone will be back in the morning," Hermione said conversationally, watching the way Draco shifted awkwardly before her. "The others are due to start giving birth soon."

"Mm," Draco hummed.

"Do you think anyone else will…" she trailed off. "Should we even tell them what we decided?"

At that, Draco let out a snort. "I think they'll notice when our child is four months old when he's supposed to be four."

Hermione smiled down at where Cassian nursed quietly. "We'll be there for every moment," she said as she stroked her son's downy blond hair.

Draco didn't answer, but there was a ripple in his posture that told her the same feeling has passed through him nonetheless.

It was as they settled into silence that Hermione took in the fact that Draco was, in fact, shirtless. She found herself scanning the bare skin of his back, taking in the lean muscle that corded his figure. She flushed as she recalled their kiss and the heat that had inflamed her body in its wake. They had both continued on as if it hadn't happened, yet their every interaction since had skirted around the tension that hadn't dissipated since the kiss. She'd been trying — in vain — to ignore the feeling that drew her to him, the thrum that rose to a crescendo when they were alone—

Cassian started to squirm, pulling her out of her thoughts. She tucked herself away and cleared her throat, trying to quell the blush that still lingered on her cheeks. "Do you want to put Cassian back to sleep? He quite likes that."

Draco turned and nodded, and took Cassian into his arms. She padded softly behind him to the crib, watching silently as their baby's eyes dropped peacefully in his father's arms. Draco laid Cassian down gently, holding him as though he was the most delicate thing he'd ever touched. Perhaps he was.

They stood in silence over the crib, watching their son as he slept. Hermione's fingers curled around Draco's, the movement as instinctive as though she'd been doing it all her life.

His fingers twitched under hers. It wasn't quite a movement that she could say was him squeezing hers back, but she somehow knew that it was the opposite of rejection all the same. The warmth of his hand in hers travelled in a pleasant tingle through her body, reminding her of what she'd been trying to avoid thinking of. The kiss. The searing kiss they'd shared in a moment of mutual bliss, leaving her with a warmth that had constantly swirled in the pit of her stomach for the entire week that had passed since the incident. She thought of the feeling of his full lips beneath hers, and could not help turning to sneak a peek at him—

Only to find him looking right back at her. The thrum that had never quite ceased started up again, a flame igniting in the pit of her stomach that encouraged her to reach closer to him. It took a few seconds for her to realize she'd already been doing so unconsciously.

He met her halfway.

The moment their lips touched, the flames exploded into an inferno. She wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing him closer as her body reacted to the fact that he was somehow the answer to quelling the flames, although his touch only made them swell further. His kisses were bruising, matching the desperate need she poured into her own as she melted into him.

It was when he'd moved to kiss her neck while her hands explored his bare chest, teasing at the waistband of his trousers that she had a brief moment of lucidity.

"Draco," she spoke in a low, breathy moan, "maybe we should…"

His hand squeezed where he'd been cupping her breast as he pulled back. "Mm?"

"We should...we should…" she lost her train of thought as his thumb grazed over her nipple, covered only by the thin cotton of her nightgown.

He moved to plant gentle kisses along her neck to her shoulder, slowly easing down the strap of her nightgown as he went. "Shouldn't we?" His voice was clearer than hers, tinged with the echo of the question she hadn't managed to get out. She could feel his smirk against her skin.

Her heart fluttered in her ribcage as she tried to weigh her options through the haze of lust. All the while, his mouth trailed in sensuous strokes across her skin, his fingers just barely holding the strap of her nightgown before it could fall and expose her.

She reached up a hand and closed it over his, tugging his fingers away from the strap. Then she slid the strap on the other side down, letting the fabric pool at her feet. She cupped his cheeks in her hands, drawing his face toward hers. His grey eyes glittered in the moonlight, darkened with lust as they trailed her naked body before landing on her eyes.

 _In for a penny…_ she thought to herself before drawing him back into a bruising kiss.

* * *

Hermione woke up to bright rays of sunlight streaming through her windows. She yawned and stretched before she abruptly froze. She was still naked, and the memories of the night before came rushing back to her. The spot where he'd lain was empty, and she flushed as she remembered falling fast asleep before she could tell if he intended to spend the night or not.

The lingering stickiness between her thighs made her opt for a quick shower instead of checking on Cassian first — a decision which she immediately regretted when she entered her son's nursery only to find his crib empty. She couldn't stop herself from trembling as she stumbled over to Draco's room, then the sitting room to find all places devoid of father and son.

Hermione tried to force down her panic as she threw open the main door and rushed toward the stairs, the logical part of her brain that seemed to have short circuited reminding her that of course Draco had simply taken their son somewhere, perhaps for a stroll—

Hermione stopped at the top of the grand staircase, taking in the scene in the common room. The rest of the Eighth Years had returned, and they all made a tableau reminiscent of the morning after the women had been magically inseminated. Some were bent doubled over, their hands buried in their hair while another person comforted them. Others were pacing and muttering angrily, while others stood having low arguments.

There was a small huddle around a high-backed chaise in the corner near the fireplace, and as Hermione descended the steps the huddle of people shifted enough to give her a glimpse of Malfoy, who sat poised upon the chaise, holding Cassian in his arms with a triumphant smirk gracing his features.

"Hermione!" Parvati called as she approached where Draco sat with their son.

Draco's eyes rose to meet hers as Padma, Harry, and Pansy looked up from where they'd been admiring Cassian. She flushed and averted her eyes to Cassian, but not before she saw his smirk widen minutely.

"Rough night, Granger?" Draco drawled.

His innuendo served only to make her flush deepen. "A little," she mumbled, trying to banish the memories of just _how_ rough he'd been for the first two rounds, before getting gentler afterward—

"You have a son," Harry said. He gestured to Cassian and then looked back at her, blinking as he seemed to process the words he was saying.

"Honestly," Pansy gave him a sidelong glare. "Has her being pregnant for the past _four_ months just completely gone over your head?"

Hermione giggled at the scene, welcoming the distraction from the heat of Draco's gaze on her.

"He's adorable," Padma said. "Oh, I can't wait to meet my little Emily—"

Parvati scoffed. "Never mind my sister and her drab names. Cassian is _perfect_. Fitting for a Malfoy, as much as it pains me to say it," she added, meeting Malfoy's ensuing scowl with a smirk of her own.

"It's technically a compliment," Pansy said. "The best you'll get from that one, I reckon."

Draco's scowl only deepened. "You—"

"I thought we'd agreed that you'd tolerate her because she's carrying one of your best mates' daughters?" Theo said as he sidled up next to Parvati and wrapped his arms around her bulging middle. His caress lasted only a moment before Parvati elbowed him in the ribs.

"Ow," Theo rubbed his rib. "Must you insist on continuing this, love? We are due to be linked for the rest of our lives and all."

At that, Hermione blinked. "Wait— do you already—"

"Know of your little discovery?" Pansy said. "Why do you think there's been chaos here all morning?" She waved around the room.

Hermione caught Blaise and Lavender having a low argument several feet away, and Dean rubbing comforting circles on Hannah's back a few feet beyond them.

"They owled us all a few days ago and told us we had the option of keeping our children if we wanted," Parvati explained.

"Oh," was all Hermione could manage.

"We've decided to keep her," Harry blurted.

Hermione blinked in surprise and looked at where he'd placed a protective hand on Pansy's stomach. Pansy hadn't brushed him away, but instead was looking down lovingly at her bump.

"Did you think that Potter could convince me to give up my daughter?" Pansy scoffed. "I'd sooner chuck him," she added, flipping her hair over her shoulder nonchalantly.

"You're—?" Hermione blinked.

"Yes," Harry answered swiftly.

She opened her mouth to ask him another question, only for him to tilt his head in a familiar motion that meant _later._

"That was one thing, but this morning they gathered us to tell us that we have to decide _before_ the children are born. Seeing the fact that we're all due to give birth this week or be induced…" Parvati trailed off with a scowl.

"Oh," Hermione said again. "I— I don't know what to say."

"Well, there isn't much to say to that one now, is there?" Pansy mused. Her eyes flicked over Hermione's figure. "How long did it take for them to right you, anyway?"

Hermione smoothed a hand over her flat stomach, still relieved to have that semblance of normalcy. "A few sessions over a couple of days," she said. "Magic has its conveniences—"

"'Mione," the familiar voice calling out to her made her freeze.

"Ron," she answered, her voice tight. Her strayed to Cassian, and an excuse to tend to him started forming on her lips before she swallowed it back, recalling the fact that her son was in his father's arms, who also happened to be the center of her conundrum. As it were, Draco's eyes were fixated upon her, a smirk curving his lips and an eyebrow raising as he appraised the scenario.

She turned slowly to face Ron, forcing her eyes to meet his and a bright, false smile on her face. "Hi Ron!" she said, her voice a pinch too high. She coughed. "How was your break?"

Ron searched her eyes with a small frown on his lips. His gaze unusually probing, as if he could see the way her entire body seemed to scream _I had sex with Draco Malfoy last night—_

"You're kidding, right?" Ron sighed, tilting his head for her to follow as he shuffled away.

 _Maybe he can see it,_ she thought frantically, panic sealing her mouth shut as she recalled just how vocal she'd been the previous night. _He knows me. He'd see it written all over my face from a mile off—_

Hermione collided into Ron's back as he paused at the foot of the grand staircase.

He peered at her over his shoulder. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," Hermione squeaked. "Just— new mum stuff," she added in a tone she hoped was nonchalant.

At that, Ron's expression shifted, his blue eyes dimming slightly. "Can we chat for a bit? About— this?" He gestured toward where the rest of the Eighth Years continued to bicker around the common room.

Hermione nodded and followed him up the stairs, her heartbeat slowly steadying to normal. When Ron stopped in front of the door to her and Draco's rooms, however, it began to flutter anew.

"H-here?" She looked toward where Ron and Padma's rooms were. "Why don't we—"

Ron shook his head. "I'd rather Padma not interrupt. And Malfoy seems rather occupied at the moment, anyway."

She nodded mutely and said the password, letting the portrait swing open for them. Ron followed her inside and made a beeline for her bedroom, her protest falling on deaf ears as he went in and flopped back onto her bed.

The same bed in which she's shagged his sworn enemy in the night before, _over and over_ —

"'Mione?" Ron said, sitting up.

"Mm?" She tried to stay calm as she wondered if the room still smelled of sex or if it was her imagination.

Ron raised an eyebrow. "I said that Padma wants to keep our baby."

"Right," Hermione nodded as she made her way to the other side of the bed, discreetly running her hands over the sheets as she searched for any lingering wet spots, trying to recall if she'd said the cleaning charms she'd never once forgotten with Ron. She cursed herself for not using the silencing charms she and Ron had always tried to use either—

"That's it?" Ron said, cocking his head at her.

Hermione blinked at him. "Erm…" she said slowly, trying to remember what he'd said. "Padma wants to keep the baby. Right. Emily, isn't it?" Hermione said, her eyes still darting between Ron's face and the bed.

"It didn't feel real until we named her," Ron said softly.

His tone made Hermione's eyes snap up to him, and it was then that she saw the sorrow that lingered on his features. "Oh, Ron," she said, moving so she could give him a hug.

"I'm sorry, 'Mione," he mumbled into her chest.

Hermione pulled back and looked into his eyes, wishing she could do something to remove that look from them permanently. "Sorry for what?"

"We never had to— I ruined our relationship, didn't I?" he said. "I said I didn't want them, but every test I ran, every heartbeat I heard—"

"Oh, Ron," Hermione said, pulling him back and quieting him. "I think you need a cup of tea."

Ron nodded and let her pull him up and lead him toward the sitting room. She doubted he even noticed the relived sag in her shoulders as she guided him to the sitting room.

A few minutes later, they were both on the sofa with steaming mugs of tea that a house elf had brought up.

"I mucked up, didn't I?" Ron said. "I thought I'd never want them, but everything we've gone through changed me. Gin's seen so much of it and she hasn't changed her view in the slightest. But— I want her now, 'Mione. I want her so bad."

Hermione reached out and took his hand. "I know," she said, stroking her thumb soothingly over the back of his hand. "It's alright to feel conflicted. None of us came back to Hogwarts this year wanting — or expecting — any of this."

Ron nodded, looking solemnly down into his teacup. "Are you angry with me?"

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Why would I be?"

"Isn't that the reason mucked us up?" he asked. "You wanted children, and I barely wanted to consider it. And now a couple of months later…"

Hermione smiled and tilted his chin until he could look at her. "Ron...I think we both know deep down that there's more than that that made us drift apart. We—"

"I feel butterflies with Padma," Ron blurted. His cheeks flushed a deep red. "The butterflies you mentioned when we broke up. I feel them. With her, I mean."

Hermione blinked and then burst into laughter.

" _What?"_

Hermione kept smiling widely at him as she sobered. "That's all we both needed Ron. Children was just the tip of the iceberg, don't you think?"

Ron pulled her into a hug and gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek. "Love you 'Mione."

"Love you too. Like a brother, to specif—" Hermione cut off mid-sentence as she heard a throat clear loudly behind her.

She didn't have to turn to know it was Draco. She made to spring away from Ron only for him to hold her closer for a moment before slowly letting go. Hermione sprang to her feet, wringing her hands nervously as she looked between both men, somehow managing to avoid meeting their eyes altogether.

"Malfoy." Ron's voice was tight.

"Weasel," Draco said. Cassian's bright blonde hair stuck out from the bundle in his arms.

Hermione zeroed in on her son, feeling the yearning to hold him close renew as she crossed over to Malfoy and reached for Cassian. She navigated awkwardly to cradle Cassian as she ignored the tense barbs the men exchanged, careful not to come into contact with any bit of Draco's body despite every bit of her own yearned to do just that. She tried to avoid touching Malfoy at all, really, but it couldn't be helped considering the fact that the man seemed determined to touch _her_. Just as she'd managed to securely grasp their son, Draco trailed a finger deliberately down her arm, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. She met his eyes to find them dancing with humour, and she gave him a scowl that she hoped contradicted the way her skin flushed.

"—and you can just piss off, Malfoy. I only came to see 'Mione anyway," Ron said as Hermione tuned back into the conversation.

"Congratulations, by the way," Ron said, his voice softening as he looked at the bundle in Hermione's arms. "I'll come by to meet him officially later, yeah?"

Hermione smiled down at where her son slept peacefully. "Thank you."

"Jealous, are we?" Draco smirked.

Ron glared at him. "Watch yourself, Malfoy. The only business she'll _ever_ have with you has to do with Cassian."

Draco's smirk widened, and his eyes danced with mocking humour. "Is that right?"

"Alright Ron!" Hermione cut in loudly, gesturing toward the door. "That's enough between you two for the day." She tried to mask the panic in her voice with concern. "Let's end this here, alright?"

Ron gave Draco one last lingering glare before he left, making sure to give her a chaste kiss on the cheek on his way out.

Hermione made a beeline past Draco, and managed to make it to the nursery to put Cassian down only to find that he'd followed her silently. So silently, in fact, that she hadn't noticed his approach until she turned to find herself looking at his chest.

"Draco!" she admonished, her hand fluttering over her racing heart. "Announce yourself next time, will you?"

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Did Weasley announce himself too, or is he back to sneaking in loudly enough to wake the dead?"

Hermione wondered if she'd ever stop flushing in his presence before promptly deciding that she most likely wouldn't. "We're over, Draco."

He continued to watch her silently.

"What?" She asked, shuffling.

"It's amusing how easy you are to read, is all," Draco answered casually.

"I'm going out," Hermione answered, turning on her heel and striding away.

She made it about a dozen steps before he spoke again. "This," he said. "Is the bathroom."

"I'm aware, Draco," Hermione answered, glaring at her surroundings as she heard the gloating twinge in his tone, likely at the satisfaction of just how flustered he'd managed to make her.

"Flustered, are we?" he said as if on cue.

She felt the heat of him at her back as he stepped forward, and she shuffled forward another step only for him to follow.

He trailed a slow finger up her spine. "Tell me to stop," he said lowly, his breath tickling her ear.

Hermione shivered and forced her eyes shut, trying — and nearly failing — to stop all rational thought from fleeing her mind. She spun around and placed her hands on his chest, trying to ignore the hard muscle she felt as she tried to gather her words.

"We—I—" she faltered. She tried to find a reason why they couldn't do what they were doing, but found that she couldn't grasp at any particular one. Every reason that she tried to grasp at dissipated into a mist of inconsequentialism, leaving only her and _him_ and the heat that radiated between their bodies.

"Mm?" He asked as he gathered her effortlessly and hoisted her up onto the sink. His fingers toyed along the bare skin of her legs beneath her skirt as he leaned his forehead against hers. "Ask me to stop and I will."

They were so close that their breath mingled. She could easily say no, and end things where they were. Maintain their boundaries of co-parenting, and that alone.

His fingers teased higher, just under the hem of her skirt. "So?"

Hermione's breath hitched as his fingers teased higher. "Don't," she breathed.

"Don't what?" He asked as she reached up to wrap her arms around his neck.

"Stop," she answered. "Don't stop."

Both of his hands slid up under her skirt, only to come back down with her knickers tangled in his fingers. "Last chance," he said into her skin, pressing a slow kiss to her collarbone.

"I'm sure," she said with finality, pulling him into a kiss.

* * *

 **Thank you guys for every review you leave! They make me so happy.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Thank you all for waiting.**

* * *

 **TEN**

The first thing Hermione recognized as she blinked open bleary eyes was heat. Overwhelming heat that had her twisting as she struggled to rid herself of the thick quilt she slept under —

Only to realize that it wasn't the quilt at all, but Draco's heavy form half-sprawled atop her. Hermione blinked again before her brow furrowed as she recalled only seeing the man's back as he retreated back to his room that night, just as he had for the past week since they'd started…Hermione blushed before finishing the thought. This, however, was different. He'd never once stayed the night, and they'd never once discussed the idea. But now, here he was, unmistakably sprawled across the bed, clad only in his pants.

Nearly his entire body was pressed into hers, one arm pillowed under his head while the other stretched across her. She followed the line of his toned arm, her eyes stopping when she realized that his hand was splayed protectively atop Cassian's back where the infant lay in his sleeping cot on the other half of the bed, slumbering peacefully.

Hermione felt a smile creep onto her lips as she looked between father and son, allowing herself to slip into the blissful peace of the moment. Gone was the lingering cloud of tension that had haunted her for years, instead replaced by a foreign sense of calm she hadn't realized she'd been missing. Her smile widened as she looked at Cassian, his tiny chest rising and falling with each little breath he took. There had been a time not long ago when he'd been little more than a foreign body in _her_ body, throwing her into an existential crisis as she tried to figure out how to navigate life with this newfound twist.

And now he was her world.

She reached out and traced his fingers, watching as his hand curled into a little fist at the touch.

"He's fine, Granger."

Draco's mumble made her start, and she felt him smile into the skin of her neck.

"I was just—"

She could practically feel him rolling his eyes. "Sure. You fret over him like he's—"

"My _child?_ " Hermione twisted until she faced him, his arm still heavy on her side.

"Mm," he said as his eyes slitted open slightly. "It's...sweet."

Hermione scowled. "You say one thing but your tone says something else entirely—"

She was silenced abruptly by his lips pressing against hers. The kiss lasted only a few seconds because he pulled away, letting out a soft sigh against her lips as his left hers.

Hermione blinked rapidly.

"Has it always been this easy to shut you up? All that time, wasted," he mused, his eyes falling shut again.

"Hardly," she huffed. "Besides— May I ask why you've decided to commandeer my bed?"

"Go back to sleep."

"It's— _six o'clock in the morning_ —"

" _Sleep."_

Hermione sat up instead, watching him carefully.

"What?"

"You've never stayed before," she answered softly.

He was quiet for so long that she thought he wouldn't answer. "You've never asked me to, Granger."

Hermione blinked. "I— you never—"

His eyes shone a brilliant silver in the morning sunlight as he slitted them open, and there was a glint in them that she couldn't place as he looked at her.

"You wanted to stay?" she asked.

He didn't answer, his eyes sliding shut once more.

Her lips had already descended upon his by the time she processed what she was doing. He stiffened for a moment before she deepened the kiss, and his free hand slid under her camisole to run over the skin of her back as his lips slowly moved against hers. She pressed closer into him, taking advantage of his half unclothed state to roam his firm muscles.

He rolled them over until she was on her back and continued kissing her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. It was only when his hand strayed too far up her shirt that she pulled away.

He was watching her with hooded eyes, his lips as kiss-swollen as her own felt. "What?" he groaned. He leaned in and kissed her neck again, and she forced herself to ignore the hardness she felt pressing into her thigh as she giggled and pressed at his chest until he propped himself on his elbows above her.

"Our son is sleeping beside us," she reminded him. "You're about to knock him off the bed, Draco."

Draco rolled his eyes and nudged Cassian to the side. A thin magical bubble appeared around him instantly, stopping him from falling off the bed. "I did read the parenting books, I'll have you know."

Hermione stopped him from leaning back down to kiss her. "Draco— Cassian is right here—"

Draco groaned again and rolled off of her, this time slipping out of the bed. "We weren't doing that much, Granger. Besides, I _also_ read that he can't see properly for another couple of months anyway—"

" _Draco."_

"Fine." Draco padded over and cancelled the spell protecting Cassian before scooping him up gently. "Clearly our presence isn't wanted here—"

Hermione laughed. "You can put Cassian in the nursery," she said as she sidled up to the end of the bed until she could lean up to peck him, "and then I'll meet you in the shower."

* * *

Hermione took a slow sip from her glass, watching Draco's figure blur behind her water. He was staring out the window beyond her, the brooding expression she'd grown accustomed to over the months she'd been pregnant back in place.

Her fingers tightened around her glass as she lowered it back to the table, still watching him carefully. The quiet moment felt reminiscent of how they'd been before. Now, she couldn't place a label on what was happening between them. They'd burst through the invisible barriers that had been erected between them since they'd first met, shattering the wall and replacing it with a bubble that encased them both, forcing them to face the space they now lingered in that hung between enemies, lovers, and family.

She didn't need to ask to know that he was thinking of his mother. She thought of the proud, beautiful features of the woman, wondering what she looked like now, if there was any hope—

"You're staring again." He spoke the words without looking at her, his eyes still trained out the window.

Hermione exhaled. "Draco, we—"

"Not now, Granger."

Cassian's soft cry sounded from where he lay in a bassinet across the room.

Hermione sighed. "Draco—"

He stood abruptly. She watched him pick up Cassian and hold him close, whispering to him softly.

There was a sudden crack in the air, and Winky appeared before them. "M-morning Miss Hermione," Winky said. She peeled warily at Draco, who gave her a blank stare back. "Is you needing help with the young Mister Malfoy today?

"No, thank you," Hermione smiled.

Winky nodded, then darted her wide eyes to Draco again. "Winky will be washing Mister Cassian's clothing, then," she said, quickly ambling away to the nursery.

As soon as Hermione heard Winky disapparate, she turned to Draco. "She was assigned to help us, Draco," she said, narrowing her eyes at him, "How is she supposed to help if she's too terrified to even look in your direction?"

"It's not my fault! I've barely even talked to the thing—"

" _Draco."_

" _Her._ The other bloody elves listened to that miscreant and think I'm some kind of—"

" _Dobby_ told no lies, and it is up to you to fix the reputation you've created for yourself." She sighed and walked over to him, opening her arms to take Cassian. "She's a broken elf, Draco. The least we can do is give her a sense of purpose."

Draco raised an eyebrow at her as he handed over Cassian. "Turned over a new leaf, have we?"

Hermione ignored him, instead opting to coo at their son. "The others will be back soon," she said. "It's been nearly a week."

The impending return of their classmates from the weeklong sabbatical they'd been granted to be induced into labor and subsequently returned mostly to their pre-birthing bodies had been lingering at the forefront of Hermione's mind for days, reminding her of the bubble she'd been living in with Draco for nearly three weeks. Her untimely labor had had them stumbling into — whatever this was, headfirst. But now that their classmates would be coming back for good, children in hand, she felt the veil they'd shrouded themselves in slowly sliding off, exposing them to scrutiny from others who would no longer be quite so preoccupied.

Hermione sighed as she looked up at him. "You can't avoid this conversation forev—"

Winky appeared in front of her with a loud crack, cutting her off.

"Winky!" Hermione clutched her chest.

"I is sorry Miss Hermione," Winky hiccupped. "An urgent letter is arriving." She handed Hermione the envelope and disapparated.

Hermione scanned it. "It's from McGonagall," she said to Draco, already standing. "I was planning on taking Cassian for a walk anyways, so…"

Draco nodded. "Later," he said.

She paused and looked back at him. "Later," she agreed.

* * *

"Headmistress?" Hermione called as she rapped at the half-open door.

"Come in, Miss Granger," MgGonagall called.

Hermione found the woman perched at her desk, watching Hermione approach over the spectacles perched on her nose. "Is he awake?" McGongall asked, nodding at where Cassian was strapped to Hermione's chest.

Hermione smiled and nodded. "He's taken quite the liking to my hair. He'll latch onto it whenever he gets the chance."

McGonagall smiled, but the movement did not reach her eyes.

"What is it, Headmistress?" Hermione slid into one of the plush chairs before the Headmistress' desk, petting anxiously at Cassian's hair as she waited for an answer. "Just— tell me, please. I don't need any preparation."

McGongall pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. "Narcissa Malfoy would like an audience with you."

Hermione froze. "A...what?" She blinked rapidly. "With me?"

The headmistress' lips were pulled tight as she looked back at Hermione. "It appears that she would like to meet her grandson."

Hermione blinked again. "And she couldn't ask her son to bring him instead?"

McGonagall shook her head sharply. "No," she said. "In fact, she made it explicitly clear that Draco wasn't to be informed of this meeting."

" _What?"_

McGonagall sighed. "I find myself as perplexed as you are, Miss Granger. That said, I have agreed to grant you use of my floo to access Malfoy Manor. Should you wish to accept her offer, she awaits you now."

"Now?" Hermione was still at a loss for words, blinking rapidly as she tried to process the Headmistress' words.

"I know this is quite a shock," the Headmistress started. "If you like some time…"

Hermione thought of the pained look on Draco's face earlier that morning, and looked down at where Cassian rested peacefully against her chest. This she could do. This she would do, at the very least. For her son, and the grandmother who might not have much time left.

"I'll go," Hermione said, standing determinedly and striding over to the floo.

McGongall looked at her for a beat before nodding. "I send my best," she said. "Good luck."

* * *

Hermione hadn't known what she'd expected, but it certainly hadn't been stepping into a quaint room outfitted in an array of neutral colors with Narcissa Malfoy sitting quietly at a table, looking straight at Hermione from the moment she entered.

Hermione blinked, taking in the woman's ever-regal appearance despite the slightly gaunt look to her cheeks. There was an unearthly pallor to her skin that she hadn't been quite able to completely cover with makeup, and the rosy pink that she'd powdered onto her cheeks looked slightly off despite the woman's otherwise coiffed appearance.

"Hello," the woman greeted, her voice neither haughty nor welcoming.

"Uh, hello," Hermione said, her voice tinged with a slight squeak. "Mrs—"

"You may call me Narcissa." Her voice was strong despite the way the hollow at her throat trembled with the movement.

Hermione paused, then nodded. "Right. Narcissa." She stood awkwardly across the room, still trying to reconcile the woman before her and the scathing figure she recalled meeting at Madam Malkin's so many years before.

"Please," Narcissa said, nodding at the empty chair on the other side of the small table she sat at.

Hermione made her way to the table. She didn't miss the way Narcissa's eyes trained on where Cassian was strapped to her chest. "Would you like to hold him?" she asked, pausing before she sat.

Narcissa's blue eyes flickered up to Hermione before going back to her grandson. "I would," she said, her voice a tinge softer.

Hermione nodded and carefully unwrapped the wrap that held her son to her chest. She handed him to his grandmother, pretending not to see the way the woman's frail hands trembled as she barely managed to support the few pounds of weight in her arms.

Still, Hermione knew who proud the woman was, and said nothing. She slipped into her seat quietly, watching Narcissa stare at Cassian, entranced.

Hermione's eye darted nervously to the open doorway.

"Lucius is otherwise occupied," Narcissa said. "He won't be disturbing us."

Hermione swallowed and nodded, and the room fell into silence once more as Narcissa continued to scrutinize her quietly.

"I hear you named him Cassian?" Narcissa broke the silence.

Hermione nodded. "Yes." She plucked a fresh sconce from the tray set out between them, setting to keeping her hands busy by picking it apart instead of actually eating it.

"Why do you think I asked you here today?" Narcissa's question was so abrupt that Hermione dropped a chunk of her sconce into her plate with a low thunk.

"To meet your grandson," she started. "And myself."

Narcissa arched an eyebrow and looked at her, as if expecting her to elaborate.

Hermione cleared her throat. "Both of which you could have done in Draco's presence," she mused. "You'd like to speak to me about Draco, then." Her voice fell flat.

Narcissa's eyes glinted. "Brightest witch of your age, I've heard."

Hermione didn't linger on the woman's words long enough to see if she'd truly detected a mocking undertone or not. "I have no...intentions, with your son, if that is your worry," she said stiffly, her eyes focusing on Cassian as she studiously avoided the older woman's gaze.

The silence stretched on long enough that Hermione succumbed to looking up to meet Narcissa's burning gaze. She cleared her throat. "Well, if that's all then—"

"Peculiar," Narcissa said.

Hermione blinked. "I don't—"

"Tell me," she said, her fingers curling slowly through Cassian's hair, "how are unmarried mothers treated in our society?"

 _Our._ The word sounded so strange to hear coming from the other woman's mouth that it took her a moment to process the woman's question. "They...I…" Hermione faltered. Unwed mothers were less accepted in Wizarding society than they were in the Muggle world. The errant thought had played in her mind a few times during her pregnancy, but she'd long decided to confront it when the issue arose. She was, after all, in a unique situation that was created by her society itself—

"So you are aware, then." Narcissa's cool voice cut into her thoughts.

Hermione's lips tightened. "I am more than capable of shielding my son from any negative press. I know that I am a public figure now, but he is my priority."

Narcissa raised an eyebrow. "But we're not here to talk about your son now, are we?"

Hermione watched Narcissa for a drawn out moment. "No, we aren't." Her stomach started to churn lowly as she watched Narcissa. The woman's face was an unreadable mask.

"What do you believe the Ministry's aim was with this program?"

Hermione's throat suddenly felt dry. "To… to teach us the benefits and importance of parenthood. The war decimated our population, and they want to encourage us to have children sooner rather than later..." Hermione trailed off and buried her hands in her robes, clenching the fabric between tight fists. There was a blackness creeping into the sides of her vision, blurring out the edges of the room and bringing Narcissa's inscrutable features into better focus.

Narcissa took a slow sip of her tea, her eyes still carefully scrutinizing Hermione over her cup. "Is that so?" she said as she settled the cup down.

The blackness creeped further, and Hermione's stomach roiled.

"Surely you are brighter than this," Narcissa said. She did not elaborate further.

Slowly, the thoughts that she'd suppressed for months started to creep forward. It felt like a waste, after all, to put them through such a program when there surely could have been better incentives. They could have asked for volunteers willing to birth children. Or, because of how desperate they were, they could have incentivized married couples to have more children.

Desperate.

Desperation was the reason they'd turned to implanting children in women that were barely of age in the first place. Even when they'd first announced the experiment, Hermione had spent countless hours in the library researching the risks of the practice, and how they could get away with it without permanently harming the witches involved. Despite all of her research, she hadn't found any evidence of any such magical pregnancies having occurred. Accelerated pregnancies, sure, but never artificial children…

Unless the children had never been artificial at all.

"They're desperate," Hermione breathed.

"Ah. So she is as bright as they say."

Hermione's eyes snapped to Narcissa's. "The children— they were always— they were real."

She'd spent so much time desperately frustrated as she tried to figure out how to save her child, so frustrated with the lack of information that she couldn't find. But of course — it had never existed at all.

Narcissa watched her quietly as her mind whirled, the pieces she'd acquired long ago slotting together to form a horrifying whole.

"Children were most important," Narcissa said. "They simply found a way to bypass the formalities. And with Harry Potter himself subject to it, who would reject it?"

Hermione's eyes sharpened. "Did you know about this?"

Narcissa's ensuing chuckle was humorless. "No. But I have been subject to their schemes for much longer than you."

"And what— what does Draco—" Hermione stopped short as more thoughts slotted into place. Their society was desperate, but also stubborn. Norms that had existed for generations would not be erased as quickly as the lives of half of their population. "They won't force us to—" Hermione swallowed. "They won't force us to— everyone knows about the program, that it was the Ministry that forced it upon us—"

"Tradition and custom are not easily usurped by law," Narcissa said. She adjusted Cassian in her arms, cradling him closer to her chest. "How long do you think you'll truly be able to handle the scrutiny? You've become the most famous unwed mother in our society, after all."

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and took a slow breath, thinking of the scathing articles she'd been subject to during her early years at Hogwarts. The lauded position she had in the media now was a burden lifted. If she fell subject to society's ire once more, the pain would be reflected tenfold.

"You want me to marry your son, then." Her words were empty, robotic.

Narcissa continued to watch her steadily. "I care not about your heritage, if that is your concern."

"Then _why?"_

For the first time, raw emotion shone in the woman's eyes so strongly that Hermione's heart stuttered. "We both know that a Marriage Law will follow soon, but we know not when. I simply want to see my son married before I pass."

Hermione's chest felt tight. "I…" she clutched her chest. She thought of the look on Draco's face that morning. "Draco wouldn't agree." He would sleep with her, but he wouldn't—

"What makes you believe that Draco isn't already aware?"

And just like that, Hermione's world finished upending itself. Everything tilted on its axis as she looked back at Narcissa, the woman's words washing over her in a sickening loop.

He'd known.

He'd slept with her countless times, and he'd known. He'd known it would come to this, and he'd slept with her. He'd held her, _kissed_ her— had he wanted to? Or was he preparing himself for potential marriage to a woman he despised, using every encounter as a way to convince him that he would be able to handle it after all—

"I need to go," Hermione said. "I need— to go." She stumbled over to Narcissa in a daze, plucking Cassian from her arms.

She barely managed to mumble her destination before she stepped into the Floo, her chest tight and her mind whirling.

* * *

 **I did say with a twist, didn't I? :D**


End file.
